


Into the Badger's Den

by HighQueen



Series: The Golden Hufflepuff Trio [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe- Lucius Malfoy is a good father figure, And Narcissa is motherly AF, Both of those should be recognized tags imo, Boy-Who-Lived Harry Potter, Disclaimer: I do not own any of the situations or the characters, Draco Malfoy-centric, Eventual Romance, Except the cat. The cat is totally mine, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Golden Hufflepuff Trio, Hufflepuff Draco Malfoy, Hufflepuff Harry Potter, Hufflepuff Neville Longbottom, I say fight me again, Indifference towards Hermione atm, Let them grow up first jeez, M/M, Neville Longbottom-centric, Plot follows the books. Sort of, Rare Pairings, Ron Weasley Bashing, Some might say OOC Harry Potter, These are also Honey Badgers, These are not just happy little badgers, fight me, that might change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2019-12-30 19:31:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 46,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18321773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HighQueen/pseuds/HighQueen
Summary: An Alternate Universe where Lucius Malfoy was a slightly better man and much better father.Lucius realized early on that Lord Voldemort was little more than a stark raving mad half-blood and was taking steps to distance his family from the disastrous fallout he could see coming. Then Severus comes forward with a prophecy that takes the Dark Lord down. Free of his reign of terror, the Malfoys become friendly with the Longbottoms to salvage their reputation. They set their son Draco on an unbelievable path, hand-in-hand with Neville Longbottom. Both standing beside Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, when Lord Voldemort begins making his return.Loosely follows original plot. Except Hufflepuffs could do it better. ;)





	1. Lucius is no Fool

**Author's Note:**

> I've been thinking of this work for quiet a while and I am happy that my Betas pushed me into working on it. This work will be updated weekly unless something comes up. I've already put a disclaimer in the tags, but again: I do not own these situations or characters. Except the cat.

Lucius was under no illusions about the so-called Dark Lord. Knowledge was power, after all, and Malfoys were never weak. He'd known at an early age what miscalculations Abrax and the other noble families made by setting a half-blood nobody on the metaphorical throne to chaperone their cause. They thought they'd been clever in creating a decoy. But that was before Riddle (and yes, some still knew his name, but none were stupid enough to say it anymore) became crazy due to a dark ritual too many.

So when his time came, Lucius took upon the mantle of Malfoy patriarch and all the responsibilities that entailed. He took on the burdens of his father's mistakes and sought any way to reverse them. To uphold the family's honor, dignity, and above all safety.

For awhile this meant taking the Mark and bowing to the Dark Lord. Long enough to assess Riddle's weaknesses (surprisingly few despite the fact he was clearly deranged), and access the right avenues (surprisingly many if one knew where to look). It took longer than he would have liked, but as a mistake would mean death, he took the time he needed.

It helped tremendously that his father passed during the war under…  mysterious circumstances. Circumstances that had landed Lucius under Voldemort's wand. In a combination of rage and (appropriate) suspicion, Voldemort had seen to it that Lucius would never walk unaided again with a series of tendon-snapping hexes and the liberal use of the Cruciatus. The demented lord had also made sure his precious Death Eaters watched.

The pain had been unimaginable. But, oh, it had been worth it. Because now the others could see what could happen to them. If Voldemort would turn his wand on the house of Malfoy, where “Purity Will Always Conquer”, then they didn’t stand a chance.   

It had been worth it because it meant he needed an heir immediately, and any in the wizarding world wouldn't bat an eye when he moved the wedding with Narcissa up to just a few months away. This left him too busy as well as too visible to play a large role in the Death Eaters. Even a deranged Dark Lord wouldn't demand a noble to fight for any cause without an heir apparent. To give himself even more time, immediately after marrying Narcissa he decided to take a very long and very public honeymoon.

Well, as public as was decent. Their marriage might have been arranged by their parents without emotional attachment, but he'd come to care for her. And she was quite beautiful. In the safety of the dark he'd admitted to her that he'd thought, perhaps, he was in love. With a smile against his skin, she'd admitted the same. But there was hesitance in her heart, and he knew it. She was scared.

The Blacks might be aligned with the Dark Lord but Narcissa was a different breed from both her sisters. (As well has her horrid cousin, Sirius, thank Merlin). She didn’t walk away as Andromeda had. But she also didn’t embrace the Dark the way Bellatrix had. She had continued her healer's training; had distanced herself from the war as much as her limited autonomy afforded her before the wedding. And now she was married to a Malfoy.

So, after subtly testing the waters, Lucius laid out his plan in whispers against her skin on another dark night when he had her in his arms. Trusting his wife with his life and the future of his house. Afterwards, she'd kissed his shoulder and nodded. "I've married a most cunning man. We will tell no one." After a beat, as if she were gauging how much she could get away with, she had continued. "And I want to name our son after the Draconis star."

Lucius had chuckled and kissed her forehead. "Anything you want, my wife. I do like the ring of Draco."

She pulled his hand to rest on her stomach with a quirk of her lips and repeated the name. "Draco. Yes."

It wasn't long after that Narcissa confirmed she was pregnant. She'd been taking an infertility potion on the sly every morning, prepared to be caught and punished rather than bring a child into the war, no matter the side. But that was before Lucius had given his idea. Now, no matter how dangerous, they needed a child. Because nothing bought sympathy like a child. However, they'd never allow him to be in danger. Lucius hired many very good and very discrete ward masters to assure that. The new nursery and the clothes picked out for his son were drenched in wards.

After the announcement of pregnancy, both went back to their duties. Narcissa walked the halls of Lestrange manor, bringing healing (and a few swift ‘unfortunate’ deaths) to Voldemort’s Death Eaters. When she wasn't showcasing her belly down the streets of Diagon Alley on the arm of Lucius while preparing the nursery at Malfoy Manor, of course.

Seven months into Narcissa’s pregnancy, Severus was accepted into the inner circle. Lucius had known the man from his days at Hogwarts, having been a fifth year Slytherin Prefect when Severus had been placed in Slytherin House. Lucius also knew the fool had fallen in love with Lily (everyone must see it, surely). Lily Evans, now Lily Potter, Auror Potter's very-pregnant wife.

Despite all of this and the fact that he had dirty blood, Severus became a good… not-friend. Lucius couldn’t afford to have friends, not now. But Severus’ wit matched his own, and they enjoyed sneering at the same people.

Snape’s potions and powers also couldn’t be ignored despite his heritage and lack of wealth. He made a great ally, especially compared to the idiots Crabbe and Goyle. And so, Lucius slowly began incorporating Severus into his plans. He even went as far as to give Severus the honor of becoming Draco’s godfather. If nothing else it ensured that his firstborn would receive the best potion treatments. (Severus, with great solemnity, had started creating baby-safe gas-relievers and colic-soothers as soon as he’d been given the news).

~*~

With everything falling into place so slowly (perfectly, and on-time, but slowly) Lucius hadn’t expected the day when Snape had crashed into the Lestrange Manor practically demanding a private audience with his lord. Lucius didn’t bother trying to eavesdrop but stayed in a little-used sitting room as the others filled out of the manor altogether.

Severus came to him after a time, face shell-shocked out of its regular impassiveness. He sat down on an empty couch limply before throwing his face in his hands. “What have I done?” He muttered to himself before lifting his face to address Lucius, “What have I done?”

“What have you done, Severus?” Lucius asked, curious but aloof.

“I’ve given an Oath, for an Oath of our lords in turn. And so I can’t say. But I fear… I fear I have doomed a babe… and its mother. A woman I hold in great regard.”

Lucius’ heart clenched uncomfortably. Part of himself wanted desperately to apparate to Narcissa immediately, to assure her safely. But surely Severus wouldn’t do this to him. He’d thought them… acquaintances at least.

Severus saw through Lucius’ mask. “Lucius! No! You must know I'd never endanger Cissa. She will be safe from his wrath.” He paused a moment, probably trying to figure out how much he could say without the Oath interfering. “You have nothing to fear if you have not betrayed our lord.”

This didn’t comfort Lucius as much as Severus had probably hoped. Lucius had been careful to never overtly defy Voldemort. Not yet, anyways. Not without knowing where Voldemort’s invincibility came from. But what little he’d done, he knew Voldemort would see as a betrayal. His irreparably damaged left leg attested to that, and the betrayal then had only been a suspicion.

They had become so close that even with Lucius occluding, Severus could tell the truth from his posture. “Truly?” Severus asked at a whisper. “I would never think it from you.”

Lucius stood to his full height, wand removed from cane sheath and at the ready. “Never think it again, Severus!”  

Severus showed his empty hands. “I will not. But… Oh Merlin, when is the babe due?”

Lucius’ grip tightened on his wand at Severus’ wane look. "Late July. Why?"

"You're sure? Absolutely?" Severus stood and shook Lucius like a rag doll instead of a Malfoy.

"He's my son, of course I'm damn sure.” Lucius knocked his hand off one shoulder, so his wand had range of movement. Just in case. “Why?"

Severus started moving away, but he didn't remove his hand from Lucius' shoulder so he dragged a stumbling Lucius along with him. “We must get to Cissa. He must be born as soon as possible. Before... " He chewed his lips and his hand tightened uncomfortably as he tried to fight the Oath. "Before. . . just now! We need to get to Cissa now!"

"Wait a damn minute!" Lucius rapped Severus' shin with his cane. "What are you on about? You said Narcissa isn't in any danger! Besides, the babe is too young! It’s too dangerous! And unhand me!"

Severus whirled around in a sweep of robes, grabbing Lucius even tighter with both hands. His face was in Lucius'. "Lucius, my friend, I am so sorry." Lucius stilled. He waited for Severus' next words. "My actions tonight probably cost me the love of my life." Severus shook his shoulders some more. "I am not going to let them take yours. He is unhinged and plans on doing something reprehensible. I cannot stop it. I doubt anyone can stop it. But I can keep it from happening to you. To Cissa and your little one.  Do you trust me to do what is best for your family? For my little godson?"

Lucius was at war with himself. He couldn't have friends. Not suspended as he was between dark and light. But Severus, he'd never done wrong by him before. And even though it was obvious Severus could say no more on the subject, it was equally as obvious that he was sincere. And dark though he may be, he'd never wish harm upon a babe.

"What must we do?"

~*~

Draco Lucius Malfoy was born June 5, 1980. Nearly a full two months early and less than a day after Lucius decided to trust Severus with the lives of his family. The early birth had required many carefully-managed potions for both mother and newborn, but everything had gone smoothly, and both were healthy. Draco was so tiny. He nearly fit into the palm of Lucius’ hand.

After the birth of Draco, the Malfoy line was secured and Lucius' part in the wizarding war had to become bigger. He never went off to battle due to his very distinctive injury and wand, although his skills were still considerable.

Instead, he persuaded Riddle to let him help as a spy within the ministry. Because he already held many Wizengamot seats and could easily get power over others. Also, by this time, all but the most suspicious white hats considered Lucius a non-entity. They'd seen him and his wife walk down the streets many times, arm-in-arm, and never once did they look in the direction of other suspected dark wizards, or even Knockturn Alley. They might be Malfoys, but since Abrax' death, they'd taken every action to seem presentable.

Lucius had even convinced Riddle to allow him to pass white-hat acceptable laws. Mainly those about mudblood children. Laws that found them sooner, monitored them better. As far as the Death Eaters were concerned, this would lead to them being able to kill those children off before they reached Hogwarts. In this, Lucius' conscious was pricked. But if things played out the way he’d planned, it would be a non-issue. And if it didn't...well, his family would be safe. And they would endure.

He did less-innocent things under the eyes of other Death Eaters in the ministry. He used all three Unforgivables. Mainly the Imperious. And so this is how he realized he could get away if he were ever caught. Just blame it on Death Eaters as if he weren’t technically one himself.

~*~

Draco was nearing 15 months when Severus floo’d into the Malfoy manor at an ungodly hour on Halloween night.  Lucius and Narcissa didn’t participate in Samhain (mainly because they had no passed family they were interested in speaking with) and had been retired for the night. But the floo, then Severus’ keening, woke them. Downstairs, Severus was collapsed outside of the fire grate.

“She’s dead! He murdered her!” Severus was as articulate as ever, even though his tears, snot, and labored breathing. “That Potter brat survived when even the great,” a snarl, “Dark Lord disintegrated, but she’s dead!”

Narcissa was the first to recover from the scene, moved by motherhood and accustomed to Draco’s often disordered appearance. She wasted no time in getting on her knees to embrace Severus, soot and all. “Shh. Shh. Shh. You must be aching, but we need facts, Severus. Facts, then rest. Then, perhaps, revenge.”

Severus’ shuddered under his distress. “Voldemort… he killed Lily. . . Potter and Lily… To get to their son.” Lucius realized, Severus wasn’t just shuddering through his tears, he was also fighting tooth and nail against the Oath that had held his mouth so far in silence. “Lily is dead… Voldemort … He might be dead… By the time I had gotten there, he’d disintegrated… the house was torn asunder. But the boy survived… like… like…” His grip tightened on Narcissa’s shoulders. Code—he couldn’t say anything more, but he was prompting for them to think on it. “The Potter boy survived a killing curse with nothing more than a scar on his forehead.” He looked up into Lucius’ eyes. “A lightning bolt. I couldn’t stay, auror’s and the bloody Order were already on their way. Who would have given their location away?” His eyes were clouding, tears still flowing, but unfocused. “He has his mother’s eyes… so green.”

Without further prompting, Narcissa rose and gently tugged Severus along with her. “To bed. Mitzy! Prepare the guestroom furthest from Draco’s.” With efficiency, she got everything sorted while Lucius remained by the fire, his thoughts alight.

Could his family finally be free? All because of a babe younger than his Draco? Letters arrived by owl and underdressed members of the ministry coming through his floo proved it to be true. Lucius received them all with grace and delight. All his planning for naught, and he didn’t care.

~*~

He didn’t know how it happened. One moment, Lucius was speaking with a flushed Barty Crouch Sr. The next, a secretary was rushing up to whisper in Barty’s ear. Then Barty goes an alarming shade of white before he bellows, “Send aurors! I’ll go at once!” He turned to Lucius. “I know you aren’t trained, but this is the time for every man! The Longbottom Manor is being attacked by uncaptured Death Eaters!”

With that, Barty disappeared into the floo. And Lucius, he had no other option than to follow, did he? Because it would be suspicious. Because he did not know what other Death Eaters were loose, and which were captured. He didn’t know if the captured ones would talk and reveal him to be one of them. So he went. Cane, limp, and all.

The manor had already fallen when he arrived. Which was an unimaginable feat by itself. It would have taken dozens of Death Eaters. Lucius heard a demented cackle in the midst of the battle. Or, he corrected himself, one very determined witch with no mental preservation. She must have been truly insane, with the curses of generations of wards crashed upon her. He saw Bellatrix amongst the battle, swaying, dancing through wand fire like a demon possessed, laughing all the while until she slipped inside the shattered remains of the manor door. Her husband, Rodolphus, guarded her back grimly as he too slipped inside.   

Lucius raced towards them, any thought of standing at the sidelines forgotten. Because he knew, suddenly, what they’d come to do. And suddenly, he knew where his line was drawn. The boy was not family, but Lucius would not have him harmed.

He slammed his way through the home and made good time up the stairs, even with his cane. Crouch followed him. Every manor had a Ward Room in the top tower somewhere, and that was where Alice and her little son would be. Lucius heard their screaming first. Then Bellatrix’s god-awful cackling. “I just want your wee little one. Is that too much to ask?” She sang. “Give it to me! Give it to me!” She casted a Cruciatus, then an Imperious. The Longbottom’s were unsurprisingly immune. Lucius couldn’t imagine a parent endangering their child, even under the Imperious.

He whipped around the last of the twisting stairs, wand-drawn, as Bellatrix pulled more screams from the young parents. And watched, horrified, as Bellatrix turned to observe him, but didn’t stop her torment.  Rodolphus and Rabastan were flanking her, surprised to see him but not alarmed. There was a third man standing in the room, another Death Eater out of their cloak. But Lucius didn’t recognize him. Until he heard Crouch Sr. behind him stutter, “Junior?” Ah, Crouch’s teenaged son then. That must have been a blow. But Lucius had no time for that.

“Bombarda!” He projected the jinx at the four figures and relished in their surprise. But not for long as Rodolphus deflected with a slash of his wand.

“Lucius!” Bellatrix screamed, so unsettled her torture sputters out. Only for it to be continued by the youngest man, to his father’s horror. “What is the meaning of this? You should be here, beside me!”

And that is what he had most feared. But perhaps Crouch Sr. didn’t comprehend her words over the sounds of his denial and the screams of the poor souls his son was torturing.

Lucius threw a series of blasting spells at the three that faced him. Crouch Junior was too enraptured in his torture to be much of a threat, and he was a good distraction against his father. Besides, Lucius had been under the spell before. If he could endure for his family, so could they. He couldn’t save everyone. Just the boy would be enough.

After that, it was a series of throwing and shielding against spells, all intended to maim or kill. After the initial shock, Crouch Senior gave as good as he got with destructive curses hurled with snarls. In between breaths, Bellatrix screamed her rage at Lucius for being a coward, a disgrace, and a blood traitor. His silencio finally caught around her throat, but she couldn’t be discounted from the fight. She knew quite a few wordless curses. And Lucius was limited, his offense hindered by his disability and the stairs at his back.

It was with the greatest relief when Lucius heard the thunder of more feet. Aurors, actually trained in dueling with madmen (and women) like these. They were taken down quickly after that.

After the battle, he recognized a few of the faces. Alastor Moody, Sturgis Podmore, a man with the resemblance of a Diggle. He noticed Alastor didn’t put down his wand when the four Death Eaters in front of them were finally incapacitated. He didn’t wait for questions to begin.

“The Longbottoms! Medic! Check on the Longbottoms! They were under Cruciatus!” He hobbled to the Longbottoms’ side (playing up his cane) along with the Diggle man. They were alive, but unconscious. Lucius could hear wailing, and realized it was the baby Longbottom in it’s locked and warded room. With no one that could reach him.

“Crouch!” Lucius spun, looking for the man. He was glaring at the bound form of his son, wands clutched in white-knuckled hands. “Crouch!” Lucius crowded him. “We need Lord and Lady Longbottom. We need them here immediately. The baby is alone inside the Ward Room.”

“The baby?” Crouch repeated with incredulity.  

“Yes,” Lucius hissed. “Can you not hear him? He’s been locked in there alone. Alice must have stayed outside to better protect him.” The cries of the baby increased, and Lucius thought he might be hearing it slap its poor hands against the walls.

Crouch took a deep breath to reign in his hatred. “Right.  Podmore, send for Lord and Lady Longbottom. We need to rescue the boy.”

Lucius spun to the seemingly blank wall where the wailing was coming from. He knew it would be impenetrable. That was what Ward Rooms were for. But if he could hear the boy, then maybe the boy could hear him. He crouched down where the wailing was loudest with the aid of his cane. “Hush,” he spoke. He was never good at speaking to infants, even to his own son. “Hush, little man. Help will be here soon.”

The cries only raised in volume. “Mamamama!” He screamed. Lucius sighed. “Hush. All will be well soon.” He lied. Of course he lied. And he only did what he could do. Which was to sit with his back against the wall, leg straight, and start on a faltering tale of Babbitty Rabbitty. Because although he did not have the book, he had told the story enough to Draco to get most of the story right.

A few of the auror’s, with Crouch, had taken the Death Eaters away by the time the boy had stopped crying. The Longbottom’s still laid on the floor. Diggle had been too weary to levitate them to St. Mungo’s in their condition. More experienced nurses would be arriving soon.

Moody watched over them all with his revolving eye, wand out and still ready.

It did not take long for Lord and Lady Longbottom to arrive at the top of the stairs. They still wore nightgowns covered with unclasped robes and Lady Longbottom’s hair was undone. Lucius did not remark upon it.

“Lord Malfoy,” Lord Longbottom blinked with aristocratic confusion. “I would not expect you to be part of the Auror’s.”

“No, Lord Longbottom.” Lucius used the wall at his back to raise himself from where he had been sitting on the floor.  “Crouch had been at my manor when the cry of alarm had come. I couldn’t sit back and do nothing.” He cut his eyes to the Longbottoms on the ground. Lady Longbottom followed his eyes with banked anguish. Someone had already told her, then. “Although I fear I have not done enough.”

Lady Longbottom tore her eyes away from her son, and approached the wall Lucius had been leaned against. “We all do what we must.” She placed her hand on a slightly-darker stone. “Labor Omnia Vincit”. Her hand came away bloody. The wards must have incorporated a blood stone. Moody watched her distrustfully. Blood magic was considered dark, even when it was obviously a protection.

The little boy on the other side would have fallen from where he was fully leaning on the stone door that lifted if Lucius hadn’t quickly stooped to scoop him up, to the regret of his leg. He went to hand the child over to his grandmother so he could rely on his cane once more, but Lady Longbottom left her arms at her side. She obviously didn’t want to hold him. He handed the exhausted boy over to Lord Longbottom instead.

The older Lord looked down at his grandson and then down further, to the form of his son. “We recently retired the manor for one of the smaller homes out near Portree. I’d thought it time for them to have the family house to themselves. . . more fool was I. We could have been here.”

“And done what?” Lady Longbottom walked closer to the quietly breathing body of her son. “Lay beside them? You’re in no condition.” She scolded before she knelt to sweep the hair out of Frank’s face. She faced Lucius next to ask, “Are the bastards that did this dead?”

“No, Lady Longbottom.” Lucius informed her. “But they all have been apprehended.”

“Did you witness them?”

“Yes, my Lady.”

“And need they stand trial?”

Lucius did not know how to answer. Was she suggesting they be arrested without trial? No doubt, they deserved it. And more so, in Bellatrix’s case. It would also… Without a trial, they wouldn’t have the chance to point fingers at Lucius. And Barty no doubt would want to sweep his son’s actions under the rug.

Crouch came back up the stairs and had obviously heard Lady Longbottom’s questions. “No, Lady Longbottom. I witnessed the horror personally. They have been sent straight to Azkaban.” He looked at Lucius levelly, as if daring him to challenge. “All four of them.”

Lady Longbottom's lips twisted with conviction and she stood, looking back to her husband, before addressing Crouch. “Thank you, Department Head Crouch, for ridding the wizarding world of these vermin. And thank you, Lucius, for doing what you could even outside of your duty. My family is in your debt.” She gave a regal little nod and swept back down the stairs with her husband (and grandson) following. That was the last Lucius saw of the Longbottom boy for quite some time.


	2. Growing Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Narcissa does a not-so-good thing and gets wonderful results for all involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I didn't forget! It was just a busy week for me. I think weekend postings will be easier all around, so expect more content on Saturday/Sundays.

Narcissa saw little Neville quite a bit sooner. Only a couple of months after the Longbottom Tragedy, in fact. You see, the only thing worse than a tragedy is not taking the opportunity it presents. Lucius and Narcissa had decided almost immediately after the tragedy that having their son befriend Heir Longbottom would be nothing but beneficial to the family name. The Longbottoms had long been known as a Light family, having been on the winning side of both Dark Wars. Which marked them as one of the few of the Sacred 28 to do so. 

The other three families were the Abbotts, the Weasleys, and the MacMillans. Two of whom had daughters Draco’s age. Since this left them limited to only one potential betrothal candidate (like hell Lucius was going to have a red-headed grandchild), they also agreed to open their social circle to those wizarding families in good standing that had pure branches. Families such as the Smiths, the Lovegoods, and the Boneses. Unfortunately, none of these families still practiced betrothal contracts. This would mean wooing and courting when Draco was grown. 

Of course, introductions of that nature had to be managed carefully from the beginning. So it would be best to foster friendships in the families with only sons now, while Draco was still learning etiquette. They would branch out to families with daughters only the summer before Hogwarts. And who knew, maybe now that the Dark Lord was gone and fears decreased, there might be more daughters to choose from in a few years time. 

So, for now, Narcissa set her considerable focus on renewing her acquaintance with Lady Longbottom. It was surprisingly difficult to get her alone. The difference in ages between them was one obstacle. The other was their chosen patronage. Narcissa patronned healing and the arts. While Lady Longbottom patronned dueling clubs and entrepreneurial businesses. 

It was with a heavy heart, therefore, when Narcissa realized she would have to use Lady Longbottoms recent loss to cement her own son’s future. She donated to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Specifically, the Long Term Ward. On a day she was certain Lady Longbottom would be attending to her comatose son and daughter-in-law: Frank Longbottom’s birthday. 

As the directors and doctors praised her charity and escorted her around to show her where they would be putting her considerable donation to use, Narcissa gracefully put herself in Lady Longbottoms view. It wouldn’t do for the younger Lady to approach first, after all. 

It was some time later, after Narcissa had completed her tour, before Lady Longbottom approached her. “I may have been a Gryffindor in my time, but I can see a Slytherin move a mile off. What do you want with my family, Lady Malfoy?”

Lady Malfoy inclined her head. Leave it to a Gryffindor to get nasty first thing. “Perhaps if you could see me coming, it was because I was coming in peace. I… Lucius had wanted news of how they were doing.”

“And the best way to do that was do donate a couple thousand galleons?” 

“Well,” Narcissa smiled deprecatingly. “It is when you’re a Malfoy.” 

Lady Longbottom gave Narcissa a scan of her eyes, as if measuring her intentions. She then gave a decisive bob of her head, which set the vulture on top of her hat to bobbling with her. “Then perhaps you should accompany me home. I think I’ve had enough fresh air for the day. Tea sounds much more soothing.”

~*~

Narcissa sipped her tea, eyes on Lady Longbottom politely as they drank in strained silence. They were in Longbottom Manor, where the Lord and Lady had relocated despite the violence that had ripped through it’s halls not even a month ago. In fact, it had only been a few days since the healers revealed they couldn’t do more for the young couple cursed into insanity. Narcissa was probably one of the first to find out, due to her insider knowledge. But soon the hoard of well-wishers would descend. 

“I suppose I don’t even need to guess as to what that whole display was about,” Lady Longbottom stated after she sat down her tea with a sharp ‘click’. 

Narcissa swallowed delicately. “I know our families have been…” She took a deep fortifying breath. “I know our families were on different sides of the war for many years. And I know some still consider the Malfoy name synonymous with the Dark Arts. And I know… I know it was my sister. But I also wanted you to know… that I grieve for them. Unfortunately, not as people I knew well. I never had that privilege. But as the children they once were. And the parents that they could have been for your grandson.”

Lady Longbottom remained silent. But she did not demand Narcissa leave from her home. And Narcissa took that as permission to continue. “Lucius could not be there, here, with me. But he holds the same sentiments. And he wanted me to inquire about Neville. How he was coping.” 

Lady Longbottom cleared her throat wetly. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been good with children. He’s mainly in Vipzy’s care.” She sniffed haughtily and stared past Narcissa with a glare on her face. “I am too old for this again. And I wasn’t particularly good at it the first time.”

Narcissa tried not to show her shock. Earlier, she’d only thought to seek an audience at another time. Perhaps in few more weeks, after Lady Longbottom’s grief was less raw. And then angle for another visit to see if Lady Longbottom would consent to a friendship between the two boys. She hadn’t expected this level of frankness immediately. Then again, perhaps she should have expected this from a Gryffindor. Still, best tread carefully. 

“Draco will be beginning his etiquette soon. Perhaps we could visit Neville and begin some… play dates. If you are amenable, of course. It would be a way to occupy some time.”

“I know you’re just trying to get in good graces with the right kinds of people.” Lady Longbottom fixed Narcissa with a shrewd look. Narcissa felt cowed in a way she’d never felt when confronted with a professor back in her Hogwarts days. “But I can also tell you mean well for Neville. Even if you just mean well for your own child. So I accept. After this condolence storm is over we can set something up. Perhaps, after their etiquette lessons, I can invite other families.”

Narcissa smiled warmly. “Thank you, Lady Longbottom. Lucius and little Draco will be pleased.”

Lady Longbottom gave a nod in return. “Now, if you’ll excuse me?” 

“Of course,” Narcissa stood quickly. “I wouldn’t want to take too much of your time.”

~*~

It was only two weeks later that Narcissa got the… owl. Which looked suspiciously like a vulture. It invited her and Draco to the Longbottom Manor. As well as Lucius, if he could be freed for the following afternoon. Narcissa will deny that she changed Draco’s clothes four times before being satisfied with his outfit. Thank Merlin for dressing charms. Draco had been too happy about the magic going on around him to get upset. He’d just woken refreshed from a nap, so he had plenty of energy to spare to experience a new situation. And so, armed with an extension-charmed clutch full of necessities, Narcissa strode purposefully through the floo with an enunciated “Longbottom Manor”.

Draco gave a squeal of surprise and slight discomfort. Entirely expected for his first floo trip. What was unexpected was a hiccupping snotty Neville still in blue footie pajamas greeting them on the other side of the journey. He was held in a house-elf’s arms, his toes touching the ground due to the elf’s diminutive size. 

“Well.” Narcissa gently sets Draco on his feet. “What do we have here, hmm?” She knelt down to inspect, one hand on Draco to keep him in place and the other extracting her wand.

“Vipzy is begging Lady Malfoy’s pardon. Vipzy woke Little Lord from his nappzies, she did. He isn’t being very happies ‘bout it. Lady Longbottom wills be downs shortly.”

“It is no problem, Vipzy. Here we go.” Narcissa raised her wand to magic away the tears at the same time Neville met her gaze for the first time. 

But Neville began to scream in terror, thrashing in Vipzy’s arms. Narcissa nearly dropped her wand and felt the blood leave her face. Was it possible that he had seen her sister during the attack? Why else would he respond so violently towards a stranger? 

“Vipzy! I thought he was done with that racket!” Lady Longbottom called out as she descended the stairs. She followed the noise and pursed her lips in displeasure when she realized Narcissa was already in her home. 

With a sharp flick of her wand, Lady Longbottom shot a Scorgify at Neville’s face. A second flick silenced him with another charm. “Hush! That is no way to act around guests!” 

Neville took in a deep silent breath through his nose. However, instead of crying once more just began biting his lower lip raw instead. Very hesitantly, he took his hands away from Vipzy’s neck and raised them towards Lady Longbottom, flapping his wrists tellingly.  
Lady Longbottom sniffed and turned to address Narcissa. “Would you care for some tea?”

“That sounds lovely,” Narcissa replied tackfully. “Perhaps after some introductions? I’ve been told it can take some time for toddlers to become comfortable around one another.”

Lady Longbottom waved her hand. “By all means. Let’s retire to the formal sitting room. There is a children’s room next door with a few of his... toys.” 

Narcissa took the opportunity of scooping up Neville from Vipzy’s arms when Lady Longbottom’s back was turned. She pressed her face into his scrubbed raw cheeks and, behind his back where he couldn’t see her wand, cast a soothing charm on them, crooning all the while. 

Draco followed her, a little confused and a lot miffed, calling out “Hi-hi-hi-hi! Mama! Mamamamama!” 

“Mama?” Neville mumbled, confused. Apparently, Lady Longbottom’s silencing charm had worn off. 

“Shh! Sweet child,” Narcissa crooned under her breath, still following Lady Longbottom but out of earshot. “I’m not your Mama. I am Draco’s Mama. And this is Draco.” She reached down to tap Draco on the nose. “You can call me Narcissa.” 

Neville gave her a very considerate glance for a toddler. “Not mama?” 

Narcissa gave a sad little shake of her head and pointed to herself with her free hand. “Narcissa.” She pointed to Draco. “Draco.” And then she pointed to Neville. Neville beamed. “Neville!” He exclaimed loud enough to startle Lady Longbottom. She turned with a frown, but didn’t react negatively to what she saw. 

When Lady Longbottom turned to face forward again, wand hand out of Narcissa's view, she gave her wand a little irritated shake. She’d always blamed her wand for her subpar charm work. And it seemed to be getting worse with age. Every charm she cast around Neville just didn’t do the trick. 

During the visit, Draco and Neville became fast friends. Draco had enough imagination for the both of them, and Neville was just happy to have someone to touch. It wasn’t surprising the little boy’s fell asleep curled up together and clutching a stuffed hippogriff between them. Narcissa was just happy they’d taken her explanation of sharing to heart. She was sure there would be disagreements in their future. 

~*~

After that initial visit, the boys became inseparable. Narcissa made sure there were play dates at least three times a week. She also began to use Augusta’s name after sitting down for so much tea. Sleepovers (as well as small trips abroad) became common. Sometimes Lucius came along to visit with either Augusta or the ailing Lord Longbottom. But that wasn’t nearly as often. 

The years passed in this manner quite quickly. That was not to say that they passed uneventfully. 

Draco’s first milestone into becoming a wizard happened when he was four years old. Which was on the young side of the bell curve. Lucius could not have been more proud of him. And Narcissa could not have been prouder of what he had done. They had just gotten back from one of their very first trips, a weekend in Narbonne, France. Neville had loved it. Narcissa could not remember a time he had spoken so much at once. True, it was with a slight stutter. But that would correct itself with time.

When they had gone to drop Neville back home at the Longbottom Manor, Augusta was clearly also just getting back. She still wore her vulture hat. Neville had run to her to tell her all about the trip. “Oh, will you cease that chattering. You shouldn’t speak if you can’t speak clearly.” Lady Longbottom had brushed him off to continue on her way, shedding her cloak and handing it to Vipzy. It had nearly broken Narcissa’s heart. 

She was about to intervene when Draco’s small grip became tight around her hand. “No!” He shouted, face fixed in anger. “No!” He shouted again when Augusta paid him no mind. And then it happened: The ridiculous vulture on her ridiculous hat started beating its wings. Right into her face! Oh, if only Narcissa had had a camera! After her initial shock (and anger), Augusta had congratulated them on Draco’s first instance of magic, as was proper (despite whatever the magic had been). The Malfoy’s had graciously accepted it, then quickly left for the floo so that they could hide their laughter and Neville (who had with more stealth than imagined snuck behind Lucius’ robes during the confusion). 

Narcissa was sure to pen Augusta an owl to explain that they’d kept him for another night. And to invite her to the party to celebrate the next evening. She also penned to other families they had slowly grown closer to thanks to Lady Longbottom’s friendships. 

Once the party was over, Neville stayed a night more. Then another. Then it wasn’t uncommon for Neville to stay at the Malfoy Manor for more nights than not. But they always had to send him home again eventually.

~*~

It wasn’t until the boys were seven that Narcissa and Lucius began to worry. Neville had yet to show a single sign of accidental magic. Draco was doing all kinds of things: floating various household items during a tantrum and on one memorable occasion he set fire to a poor peacock’s tail feathers when it tried chasing Neville. 

There were some occasions where Narcissa thought, perhaps, it was Neville’s magic at work. (The aforementioned poor peacock suddenly extinguishing with bubbles or when Draco’s tantrum throwing nearly shattered a glass extremely close to their location, only to zoom far away instead.) But, no, certainly Neville’s magic couldn’t be so quick to react to Draco’s. It had to be Draco’s. 

The Malfoys talked briefly about distancing themselves. A Squib, even among the light, was seen as a shameful thing. Oh, just the thought made Narcissa’s heart ache. And Draco, whom had overheard, slammed into the sitting room to fully voice his displeasure. Lucius had thrown her and her son a stern look, about to lay down the law. But Narcissa cut in first. Only if he did not receive his Hogwarts letter. Only if he didn’t not receive his Hogwarts letter, and Lucius would still give Narcissa time after that to find him comfortable lodgings and a way to continue his schooling so that he could find direction. Lucius had agreed. And so they set in to wait and see. 

When Lord Longbottom passed away later that year, shortly after Neville’s 8th birthday, the entire Malfoy family was present. Narcissa couldn’t pull Draco away from Neville’s side, even with magic. And Augusta was insistent that Neville be there as witness even at his tender age. So they all witnessed as the Lord took his last breath. 

Algie Longbottom, Neville’s great uncle, and his wife, Enid, did come for the modest funeral. Lord Longbottom was a quiet man by nature and was often overlooked in favor of his wife. Combining this with his ill health in his later years that kept him isolated, it was no surprise he had so few come to his funeral. 

Narcissa watched Augusta carefully during that time. She knew Augusta loved the man, in her own bursque way. In the same way she had loved her son, and her grandson despite all of his perceived faults. But Augusta was also one to take her grief out on those around her. As time and experience had shown. So Narcissa watched. And failed to watch the newcomer in their midst. 

Neville’s shriek of terror had come first from the top of the tower (the same tower Lucius fought in seven years prior). Lucius ran up them again, cursing his leg the entire time. Then the scream had come from the windows. Narcissa could not run quickly enough. It was with her heart in her throat that she saw Neville plummet to the ground through the front windows. Then she was out the door, knowing it was too late. 

She expected to see him shattered on the ground. Her little boy. But instead she saw him… bouncing… in the garden. As if he had an invisible bubble surrounding him, Neville bounced first through the garden, destroying Augusta’s peonies, before he slowly began losing momentum and instead began to roll down the drive.

Narcissa couldn’t stop her hysteria. She was crying, but also laughing. She felt as crazy as her sister. Draco had followed her outside; he’d been hot on her heels and just as scared. But now he chased the bubbled Neville down, cheering all the while, fear forgotten in the joy of seeing his friend perform such a powerful magic. 

When Narcissa had gathered herself together, she stepped further outside and whirled to look at the tower window Neville must have fallen from. She locked eyes with Lucius, who had Algie at wandpoint, bent backwards outside of the window precariously. From far below, she could hear Algie stammering and begging. He had been angry that a Squib would be the next Lord of the Longbottom Manor, and had thought the best way to test Neville was to throw him off the tower his parent’s had been tortured in. 

Lucius did not bother even casting a curse. Instead, he sheathed his wand and used his bare hands to slam Algie’s head into the stone. The unacceptable explanations stopped. Good. Her husband had that...thing... under control. Narcissa lowered her eyes back to the door, and saw Augusta and standing there with Enid. Augusta was actually clutching Enid around the forearms, tears down her cheeks but pride in her eyes. 

“Well,” Augusta said thickly, and wiped her cheeks with a handkerchief. Enid stepped forward to proffer one to Narcissa. For once in her life, Narcissa didn’t care that she looked a mess. She didn’t take the handkerchief and waited for Augusta to speak. “I believe, after all of this grief, a party is in order.”

Narcissa gave a small smile and wiped her eyes with her own handkerchief, Enid’s still untaken. “Of course I will help you will all of the preparations Augusta. However, I believe it is time that your in-laws retire to the guest cottage. Lucius will see them off early tomorrow.” Her tone brokered no argument. Enid gave an understanding nod and withdrew her offering.

Augusta’s lips fastened into a fierce crease. “No, I do believe I have had enough company today. Lucius can see them off immediately.” Augusta turned to Enid and gave her forearm a last squeeze before letting go. “I will go fetch my grandson.” She strode fiercely down the path. 

~*~

Augusta planned the party to take place not even a week later. She showered Neville with so much praise that he’d started speaking around her once more. He didn’t have long to marvel at her change in behavior before the Longbottom Manor was flooded with adults and children, most which he didn’t recognize. 

The Boneses were there, as well as the Abbotts, Macmillans, and Diggory’s. The three Lovegood’s roamed around somewhere outside, admiring what parts of the garden Gran had been able to salvage. But there were also an army of redheads, who were introduced as the Weasleys before they were released to cause havoc. Neville didn’t really know any of their names. But he thought the twins were kind of funny. The youngest boy, the one his age, not so much. 

Neville learned his name was Ron, and Ron hated Draco for some reason. He kept calling him a ponce and a spoiled brat. Neville thought Draco handled it well; he only sneered at Ron and told him to go away. 

Neville could tell immediately that Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy (only called that by him in public) did not like the Weasleys. He could only conclude that it was because of their manners. Just watching all of the kids made him twitchy. His Gran would hex him silly if he acted like this at someone else’s party. 

Ron tried talking to him once more, when Draco went to fetch Neville some water (the punch was making him queasy). “Why don’t you talk for yourself? You always let that blond git boss you around. It’s pathetic.”

Neville only bit his lips because he was certain if he said something, it would be words Gran would wash out with soap. 

Ron continued. “And the twins told me what your accidental magic was. A bouncing bubble, really mate? Isn’t that kind of lame?”

Draco came back at that time, handing Neville his drink. “And what was yours again, Ronald? Oh, that’s right. No one was invited to your party to find out. Your family was too poor to host yet another one.”

Ron’s face went as scarlet as his hair and he advanced forward, hands fisted. But Mr. Malfoy had overheard the whole thing and stepped forward to put his hand on Draco and Neville’s shoulders. He didn’t say anything to the children, just continued his strange conversation with Mr. Lovegood. But it was enough for Ron to stomp away in indignation.

Neville didn’t want another chance encounter with the angry boy. So even though it was his party, he stayed in the shadow of Mr. Malfoy as much as he could and only spoke with Draco (and Luna when she came looking for her father). This wasn’t as much as he would have liked, because Gran was determined to pull him out and show him off every once in awhile to some adults like Draco did with his new broomstick. Neville smiled as much as he could, and kept his mouth shut. He was sure he would start stuttering and his Gran would go back to ignoring him if he tried talking to any of the strangers. 

He did enjoy all of the presents. Books about herbology and magical creatures from the Lovegoods, including wonderful illustrations. Magic baubles from most everyone else. A broom from Gran that Neville doubted he would ever ride. He’d had enough of heights for a while. And a toad Neville decided to name Trevor that his great-uncle Algie sent as an apology for throwing him out of the window. 

Draco was more upset on his behalf than Neville was when the party had to be ended early. The redheaded twins had somehow flooded the guest loo and Ron had begun eating the cake (with his hands! The barbarian!) when the adults had rushed to rescue the porcelain and flooring. 

Vipzy had just cut away the possibly contaminated bits and the two remaining boy’s had shared slices of the remaining cake after everyone had left. Except Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. They remained in the sitting room with Lady Longbottom. No doubt all of them were furious. But overall, Neville thought it had gone well. Gran hadn’t charmed or hexed him once. And he thought he could make another friend in Luna even if she was going to be a grade behind him once they began Hogwarts. 

Merlin! Neville was actually going to be going to Hogwarts! With Draco! That was still hard to believe. 

Gran had already pressed the importance of getting into Gryffindor. But Neville didn’t really believe he would get sorted into that house. Not to mention he knew that Draco would be sorted into Slytherin. Not just because of his parents, but because Draco just oozed confidence and ambition. Granted, Draco’s ambitions seemed to change from day to day. (He seemed mostly torn between becoming a professional Quidditch player or following his father into politics. But he also sometimes wanted to become a potions master like his Godfather Severus). 

Gryffindors and Slytherins never seemed to be friends. So, as much as he wanted to make his Gran proud (keep her proud), he was quite sure that wouldn’t happen. And Ravenclaw and Slytherin were right out. So that left Hufflepuff. Which everyone except Hufflepuffs themselves made fun off. Neville didn’t think it was right, but that was what happened. Because Hufflepuffs were “all the rest” that didn’t have good traits. Or at least that’s how all of the adults he knew explained it. But if they were “all the rest”, Neville was certain he could at least belong there. Maybe Draco would stay friends with him, even if he were in Hufflepuff. 

~*~

Draco’s Hogwarts letter arrived first, of course. And even though he was extremely excited, he swore to Neville he wouldn’t open it until Neville received his own. It was definitely the hardest promise in his life. 

But it was worth it. Neville floo’d to the Malfoy Manor nearly first thing the day of his birthday, waving his letter around excitedly. He actually got in! He didn’t care what house he was sorted into! He actually received a letter!

He and Draco tore into the letters at the same time, reading the identical script. Draco was the first to jump up from the floor (where they had landed after giving each other big hugs) to turn to his parents. “Can we go to Diagon Alley for shopping now? Like, right now?”

Lucius pursed his lips to keep from laughing at his son’s excitement. “How about the weekend? I will be free and we can go together as a family. That is, if Lady Longbottom allows it, Neville.”

Neville looked up to Lucius with flushed cheeks and a happy little smile. “Gran said you should take me whenever is convenient. She doesn’t want to bother with the crowds.” 

“Fair enough,” Narcissa opened her arms, gesturing Neville to stand and give her a hug. Which he did. “While you are here, what do you say about celebrating your birthday? Mitzy has already finished whipping up a wonderful breakfast. I hope you enjoy french toast.”

Neville beamed. “You know it’s my favorite.” He gave Narcissa another hug. “Thank you.” 

“You are most welcome.” Narcissa bussed his cheek. “And of course, we have presents for you. But those can wait, I think.” She gave a tinkling laugh when Draco was the one to pout. 

Her sweet boys were eleven at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes? No? Maybe so? I've enjoyed writing this a lot. Hope everyone else likes it!


	3. School Shopping!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys go shopping together and meet a boy named Harry. And Lucius regrets his generosity. Only a little.

As Lucius had promised, the Malfoy’s took Neville school shopping that next weekend. Augusta was many things, but patient was not one of them. Especially to the bumbling of too many eleven year old’s in one place. She wasn’t getting any younger, either. Draco was buzzing out of his skull, but was doing his pureblood best not to let the excitement show. Neville just looked green at the amount of people about.

Draco gave a little scowl, making sure to face away from Neville so that the younger didn’t see and think it was directed at him. Draco was truly mad at Neville’s Gran, again. She’d pulled Neville aside right before the Malfoys took him through the floo to give him a wand… his father’s wand. And then proceeded to hold the Malfoy’s up by giving Neville a big speech of how he had big shoes to fill and the importance of following his father. Draco didn’t believe it was fair. She never saw Neville for just Neville. Even Draco’s family never pushed him so hard! And his family was just as pureblood as Neville’s! Although, Draco didn’t really see why blood mattered so much except his father believed it to be. Maybe he would understand better when he was in school and more grown.

“Well then,” Narcissa said in her way. “Where to first, boys? Books or potions?”

Draco waited for Neville’s opinion, and when it wasn’t forthcoming, he looked to his father. “Perhaps books first? And could we do potions near the last? Uncle Severus says they need to be as fresh as possible.”

Lucius curled up his lip. Neville twitched like he was intimidated. But Draco knew it was his father’s approving smile. “That is sound reasoning, Draco. Severus would be pleased you are already putting thought into his class.”

Draco began to beam, then remembered they were in public and straightened his shoulders more instead.  Neville gave a tiny smile to the floor. Draco looked like one of his father’s peacocks when he did that, but at least he was happy. Narcissa was always warm at home, and only became cool and collected in public. But Lucius was always colder in the younger boy’s presence. So Neville never knew how to act until he got his cues from Draco’s reactions.

Book and parchment shopping was mostly uneventful. Except when Draco noticed Neville looking longingly at a herbology book that wasn’t on the Hogwarts letter. So Draco grabbed it from the shelf, lightly rolling his eyes at his friend, and added it to his never-full shopping basket. He knew his parents would not pay that much attention to the books they purchased. And when they went home, he could hand it over to Neville without making too much fuss. Neville gave Draco a thankful nudge at that. His Gran would go through the purchases and receipts with meticulousness just to make sure the Malfoy’s didn’t “spoil” her grandson with her money while her back was turned.

Next, the older Malfoy’s guided the boys to trunk shop. Lucius went straight to the attendants desk with the letter from Augusta detailing what Neville’s trunk would look like. Oak wood slats and brass in construction, with 3 spacious levels (for books, potions, and clothes), intermediate intruder charms, and his whole last name engraved on the brass plate. The oak slats would convey wealth, but the brass would say good sense.

It took a little longer for Draco to decide. Neville was surprised when he immediately didn’t go to the green colored scaled leather with a silver plate that was at the display. When Neville pointed it out, Draco just gave a little snort. 

“Too predictable. And outdated. I want something more modern. Like that one.” The one he pointed out to Neville and his mother was black with clean lines and edges plated with bands of gold. Upon closer inspection, Neville realized it wasn’t actually on it’s end but was made to be taller than wide and to have a door instead of a lid. Draco reached to open it while Narcissa watched with subtle interest. It had a bar for clothes to hang on one side and three drawers down the other. “Interesting,” Narcissa murmured. “Such a clever way to store your school robes. You wouldn’t have to worry about anti-wrinkle charms.”

“That’s one of our newer models!” A salesman walks up, overly friendly. “It’s called a wardrobe trunk. You would still carry it horizontal, but there’s a charm that keeps everything inside vertical during transit. Everything is expandable like a standard Hogwarts trunk, too! So no need to worry about running out of room.”

Draco gave Narcissa his best still-in-public pleading eyes. Lucius walked up to inspect it, having completed Augusta’s order to have Neville’s trunk sent for her inspection immediately. He placed his hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Draco, you have good taste. But perhaps silver instead of gold?”

Narissa shook her head. “I believe the gold makes a statement in this case.” She turned to the salesman. “A gold nameplate with his full name. Draco Lucius Malfoy. Will you need assistance spelling it?” 

The salesman ratcheted up his smile. “Not at all. Would you like anti-theft wards?"

Lucius gave a quick nod of his head. “The strongest you have. Deliver to the Malfoy Manor when it has been completed.” Lucius pulled out his coin purse and finished the transaction. They were headed out within minutes. 

“Where to next, darlings?”

“Mother, can I get an owl? I need to make sure I can write to you and father.” 

“Of course dear. We can go to Eeylops. What about you, Neville? Would you like a familiar?” Neville ducked his head while they walked towards the owlery. 

“I have Trevor. Wherever he ran off to this time.” Neville never really connected to the toad like he was told some young witches or wizards did with their familiars. The toad was given to him as a gift not long ago for his first incident of accidental magic by his uncle. The one that called him Herville and had thrown him out the window.

“Oh my,” Narcissa quietly fussed. “Did Draco not tell you?”

“Oh!” Draco made an unbecoming face. A mix between sheepishness and anguish. “I forgot!” 

Lucius sighed wearily and, with a pointed look to Narcissa, steered them to a closed storefront. Narcissa crouched gracefully to be at Neville’s level while she took Neville’s cheeks in her palms. “Darling, do you remember when you told us the last place you remember having Trevor was our manor?” Neville nodded. “Well, a few days later Mitzy searched and searched. But he wasn’t inside. So when I asked her to search outside…”

“The peacocks.” Neville whispered. Gran always told him he wasn’t the brightest lumos out of the wand, but it wasn’t difficult to connect the dots. 

“The peacocks.” Narcissa echoed with sympathy. She gently squeezed Neville into a hug as she stood again. Even Lucius’ eyes seemed to warm a little, although his face mainly showed chagrin. 

“Since it was my peacocks that did the crime, I’ve spoken with Lady Longbottom. She agreed that it was my duty to make restitution.” Lucius clasps his hand on Neville’s shoulder paternally, just as he had done with Draco in the trunk shop. “So, I will be making arrangements for your new familiar. Whatever you choose. Along with everything you will require for him or her for the next seven years.” 

It took everything Neville had not to jump at Lucius’ show of affection. He felt like his eyes were bugging out like Trevor’s used to. The Malfoy’s were always so generous, especially when they felt they owed something. Neville had found the best thing to do when confronted with a Malfoy determined to buy something was to just say, “Thank you, sir. I couldn’t ask for more.”

Draco was bouncing on his toes, a self-satisfied grin on his face. Obviously, he would have been more sympathetic if that toad had been a real familiar. But everyone knows you have to pick out a familiar yourself (unless the gifter was gifted in animal magics). And Neville never even liked Trevor. Trevor was a bore. Now he (well, his father) could get Neville a better familiar. 

“Would you like an owl, darling? To keep in contact with your Gran?”

Neville tried really hard not to make a face. “Er, I could always borrow a school owl to message Gran?”

“And of course he can use my owl for letters for you both.” Draco pitched in. He knew Neville really wanted a cat to snuggle with.

“Then shall we go to the Menagerie together, Neville? While Draco and Narcissa go to Eeylops?”

Neville looked up at Lucius and smiled. “I’d like that.”

Draco only pouted a little, and only where Neville couldn’t see. He’d hoped they’d stay together. He wanted to help Neville pick out his cat. But he smiled and waved at Neville one last time before Mother began walking away. “Have fun, Neville! You’ll find a wonderful familiar!”

~*~

Neville squared his shoulders and followed Mr. Malfoy in a different direction, towards the Menagerie. He wished Draco had remembered to tell him sooner, so he was more prepared to meet potential familiars. He felt frazzled right now, and that feeling only got worse when he walked into the store. When the bell rung, it set off a cacophony of hisses and mmrrows. 

Mr. Malfoy’s nose scrunched in immediate distaste at the cramped, dark, smelly interior. Neville hurried forward before Mr. Malfoy could change his mind. He really wanted a familiar. 

“Ah,” A bespeckled woman called from the far back, where they could hardly see. “Welcome! Welcome! Be right with you!”

Lucius rolled his eyes but followed Neville further into the store, watching carefully that a creature didn’t try to scratch for Neville. There was an area for cats, and Neville (quite purposefully for the shy boy) made his way there. The first few occupants wailed and hissed at the boy, and Neville was extremely cautious to give those cages a wide berth. Then, Lucius watched as Neville came right up to one of the cages. It was large, not set on the bottom shelf, but around thigh height for Neville, tall and long. Inside was… Lucius wasn’t quite sure what it was. 

Except that it had a terrifying amount of dark gray fur. One, then two yellow-gold orbs opened to study Neville for a few quiet moments. Then, it slowly stood to its full height, stretching in a distinctly feline manner, before settling down on its haunches and licking one large paw. Merlin, it was nearly the same size as Neville. It best be full grown, because Lucius had a bad feeling about this. 

As if fate read his mind, the… cat… gave a shattering purr and rubbed against the bars of its cage. Neville nearly leaped to pet the thing. 

“Ohh! Isn’t that the sweetest!” The bespeckled woman walked right up to the cage and opened its door without a by-your-leave. The… cat… jumped out and padded around and around Neville, rubbing itself so strongly into him that he thumped onto his rump, where the thing began to groom his head.

“What is that thing?” Lucius asked of the keeper. Not angry, just resigned. 

“Oh, she’s just a cat. We’re pretty sure. The breed is called Maine Coons. A breed from the States. Normally, they get up to 9 kilos {20 pounds}. But this beauty just wouldn’t stop growing for the longest time. She’s ten months now, and clocks about 14 kilos {31 pounds}. Of course, Maine Coons always look bigger than they actually are. It’s all the fur, you see. She’s been looking for a home for the longest.  Most of the kiddies looking for familiars are scared of her size. Not your son, though, huh?” The lady would not stop talking. Lucius didn’t bother correcting her. Lest it distract her.

“Is the care similar to a normal cat?” 

“Oh, yes. Pretty similar. She definitely needs help with her fur now an again, especially during summers. She’s spayed, so no need to worry about kittens or messes. She will never turn down food, but she’s a good hunter too so no worries there. And she’s intelligent to do her business wherever you ask. Oh! Lookit this, too! Kitty-kitty!”

The cat stopped her grooming of Neville for a short moment. While the shopkeep had her attention, she gave a quick command, “I want a hug!” The cat gave her a moment of contemplation before gracefully putting her paws to either side of the lady’s hips (her full height realized) and rubbing her cheek against the lady’s stomach. “Isn’t she the sweetest?” The shopkeep gushed and scratched the cat around her ears. “She’ll be perfect for your son for Hogwarts. He’ll be just the most popular kid around.”

Lucius carefully reached out to pet the still-standing cat on the back of the head. The cat quickly swiveled her head around her furry neck, similar to an owl, with a judgemental look in her golden eyes. After a moment, she allowed the contact to continue. Lucius pretended his hand wasn’t shaking. 

“Well, then. Lead on. We will need a basket large enough for her transport and all of the equipment to keep her happy.”

Lucius didn’t know who made the ‘squeeing’ noise: the shopkeep or Neville. It was almost drowned out by the cat picking up her purr again anyways. 

Neville stayed back with his new familiar while Lucius followed dazedly behind the shopkeep as she started flicking her wand, having all the best things gathered into the largest wicker crate they sold. (As large as Neville’s school trunk and charmed larger inside besides). He didn’t even bother checking the price tag. He’d said he’d pay for everything for 7 years and he meant it. 

“Shouldn’t she have a collar? In the case of her getting lost?”

The shopkeep couldn’t shake her head hard enough. “Completely unnecessary. She’s just as intelligent as an owl. She won’t get lost. And it would be a shame to ruin her pretty silver mane.”

Lucius looked at the cat again now that she was out of her dark cage and closer to the sunlit doorway with Neville. It was true. She was gray as he had first thought, but the longest fur on her neck was lighter than he first thought. He gave a nod in recognition as he paid and notified her that everything should be sent to the Longbottom manor. 

The cat would stay with them. A test run for Hogwarts. 

~~~

They ran into Narcissa and Draco right outside of the Menagerie where they had been waiting. Draco’s chest was puffed and he had a small white owl with orange specks perched on his gloved hand. When Draco and his yellow-eyed owl saw the cat padding out with Neville, both sets of eyes grew large in surprised caution. The owl’s orange ear tufts on top of its head sprang up, giving itself two exclamation points. 

“Merlin, I didn’t know cats could be that big!” Draco gave a incredulous little giggle. 

Narcissa inched closer to Lucius, whispering, “Are we sure it is a cat?”

Lucius gave a publicly- acceptable snort. “As sure as anyone walking out of that store can be. It will be fine. Neville adores her.” As he spoke, Neville gave Draco a blinding smile and rubbed his hand down the cat’s back (he didn’t even have to bend over!).

“Isn’t she beautiful?” Neville asked rhetorically. 

Draco nodded with seriousness and thrust out his hand to show off his own familiar. Lucius was surprised it didn’t unseat the little Long-Eared Owl, but the owl just gave one cautious wide-eyed bobble towards the giant cat before settling its ears and squatting down again. Albeit with eyes still wide open in suspicion. 

Neville reached out a hand to pet the little bird. It didn’t give so much as a coo, but looked to appreciate the touch all the same. 

Neville and Draco shared matching grins again before turning to the adult Malfoys. 

Narcissa gave a indulgent little smile. “They’re both beautiful, boys. Now, why don’t we send your owl to the Manor. We still need new robes and to run to the apothecary. Neville, please make sure your new familiar doesn’t run off in the crowd.”

Neville nodded in serious nervousness as Draco tossed his hand up, giving the owl a boost to fly away. Trevor had never obeyed him. But the cat just swished her tail and trailed along when they began moving, behind Narcissa but close to Neville. She occasionally looked back to make sure her human was with her. It made Neville so happy!

Narcissa roamed the clothing racks of the shop for Draco some casual wear while Madam Malkin’s began fitting the boy’s robes. And if some clothing that would suit Neville’s olive complexion made it to her basket, oh well. Neville’s new familiar, after making Madam Malkin initially nervous, settled herself a few feet away from his pedestal in an attentive large loaf position.  

The door tinkled the arrival of another first year. He was small, with really unruly black hair and glasses, and alone. Madam Malkin called out to him. “Over here, deary. Beside Mister Longbottom here. There’s a good lad.” When he stood on the third pedestal, careful to step around the cat. “Be right with you.” 

“Any idea of which house you want to be placed in at Hogwarts, dearies?” Madam Malkin asked conversationally to the three as she measured Neville. 

“Slytherin most definitely,” Draco responded quickly with confidence. What else would he be? 

Neville was more subdued when he answered. “My parents were in Gryffindor.” 

“House?” The third boy asked.

Draco wrinkled his nose. A muggle-born then. His father always said they asked the most ridiculous questions because they were never as smart as purebloods. 

“Hogwarts has 4 houses,” Neville explained shyly. “Slytherin, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff.”

“We’re sorted into our most promising traits!” Draco continued on when Neville stopped, thinking he might be unwelcomed. “Slytherins are for the ambitious. Gryffindors are for the brave.” Uncle Severus said it was the house of the fools, but Draco was smart enough not to isolate Neville. Because Neville’s parents had been Gryffindor and Neville might be Gryffindor. And even if they were competing houses, he was not going to lose his friend over this. So he continued. 

“Ravenclaws are for the intelligent. And Hufflepuff is for the loyal and kind.” Draco makes sure to give the biggest pride to the Hufflepuff house. Neville needed to know that it was okay if he went into the Hufflepuff house. Even if most wizarding families thought it was a lesser house, including Neville’s Gran, because they were most known for hard work and being the leftover house. He’d be with Neville no matter what house he was sorted into. Besides, it would be much easier to remain friends with him if Neville did go into Hufflepuff instead of Gryffindor. 

The other boy spoke up, “So the Hufflepuff house is for making friends?”

Draco pursed his lips. When put like that, they didn’t sound nearly as cool as he’d been trying to make them out to be. But before he could retort, the boy continued. “That sounds really nice. I’ve been told my parents were in Gryffindor but I don’t remember them. Maybe I should be in Hufflepuff instead.”

Draco gave a sharp little jerk of his head. Neville looked at the new boy with consideration. Maybe Draco’s plan would work after all. Maybe Neville would be happy in Hufflepuff despite his Gran’s insistence on Gryffindor. But it wasn’t like Neville had a choice. Draco’s parents had told them that a creepy old hat was the one to make the final decision. 

“All done, dears. Let me find your mother to ring everything up.” Madam Malkin said with an easy smile. Draco and Neville got off their pedestals. 

Draco walked up to the unnamed boy and reached out his hand. “Draco Malfoy, and this is Neville Longbottom. We’re here with my mother.”

As they shook hands, the boy responded. “Harry. Hagrid brought me to Diagon Alley.” He pointed out the window to a giant of a man that was looking in with ice cream in his hand. “He told me he was going to get me ice cream.”

Draco smirked. “That does look good. Maybe we can convince Mother to get us some before we continue shopping.”

They were sweeping out the door not long after, meeting with Lucius in the crowd. The adults did relent and they all got small servings of ice cream before heading to Ollivanders. Neville and his cat stood aside once they entered the dark shop. Neville didn’t need a wand, after all. Gran had just given him his father’s. 

“Is that another Malfoy gracing my humble shop?”  A wizened voice asked from the back. An elderly man walked to the counter, seemingly becoming more corporeal the closer he stepped. 

“Ollivander, it is wonderful to see you after all this time. I cannot praise you enough for the modifications you made on my wand.” Lucius greeted Ollivander with a nod. He’d come with the idea of sheathed wand when it had been necessary for using a cane due to his… encounter… with the Dark Lord. 

Ollivander gave a pleased smile that looked more like a cheshire grin while Narcissa pushed Draco forward. “Quite a spirit in your son,” Ollivander swept his eyes across Draco as Draco tried to act nonchalant. This man freaked him out.    
With a flick of his wand, Ollivander took measurements of Draco’s arm, then started pulling boxes from the shelves from the walls behind the counters. 

He handed a wand to Draco. “Chestnut, 14”, rigid, with dragon heartstring core. Flick it.”

Draco did as requested, but the wand was quickly snatched away before anything happened. “Nevermind. Nevermind,” Ollivander continued hurriedly. “All wrong.” He thrust another in Draco’s waiting palm. “Elm, 13”, slightly rigid, with unicorn hair.” 

Draco gave it a flick. Beautiful lights shot from the tip, but it was accompanied by a loud bang.

“Hmm,” Ollivander muttered while he whisked the wand away. “Unicorn hair most definitely.” 

He handed another over the barrier. “Unicorn hair again, Hawthorn, 10”, slightly springy.” 

When Draco flicked this time, there was a shooting of multicolored sparks. Neville could see the wonder in Draco’s eyes. This was definitely the one. Ollivander nodded. “A synstive wand for a spirited individual. Yes, you will work well together to balance each other out.”

Lucius stepped up to the counter to pay. During the transaction, Ollivander spoke up. “Does the Longbottom heir not need a wand as well?” 

“I believe he will be using his father’s wand,” Lucius responded. 

“Ash, 13”, rigid, phoenix feather?” Ollivander rattled off without hesitation, eyeing Neville critically. “No, no. That won’t do at all. Please inform Lady Longbottom that he requires a new wand. Both Ash and Phoenix feathers will never seek another master, even someone as close as a son. Especially… well... ” He leaned further over the counter so that Neville could not hear. “Especially when the original master is still alive.”

Lucius eyed Ollivander, then Neville who continued to stand in the corner self-consciously. “Perhaps you could write Lady Longbottom a letter explaining? However, while we are here.” He waved Neville forward. 

Ollivander’s eyes gleamed in the sparse light. “Oh yes.” With a flick of his wand, he sent the boxes he’d pulled for Draco back. “Flick your current wand, Mr. Longbottom. Let me see how it reacts.” 

Neville did as instructed. The entire store shook and the neatly arranged boxed wands rattled and fell as the wand screamed its displeasure. 

“As expected. Pay it no mind.” Ollivander dismissed with his wrist before he began pulling boxes. He handed Neville a new wand, placing the old carefully down on the counter. “Larch, 12”, rigid, dragon heartstring. Give me a flick.”

Like Draco’s first time, Ollivander snatched it out of his hand before anything happened. “No, no. Too rigid all around. All wrong.” He handed over another. “Alder, 13”, slightly rigid, phoenix feather.” 

When Neville flicked his wrist, this one shot into flames. He was startled into dropping it. Ollivander retrieved it, but threw it back into its box with carelessness. “Hotheaded.” He shook his head with the explanation. “On to the next, no worry now. Fir, 14”, slightly springy, unicorn hair.” He presented the next wand with a flourish, eyes squinted in merriment. 

Neville’s flick was even more hesitant and resulted in petty, smelly smoke. Perhaps if one was generous, they would call it a pretty lavender. “Now we’re getting somewhere, Mr. Longbottom. Unicorn hair it is. Try this one. Pear, 13”, springy,  unicorn hair.”

Neville took the proffered wand and flicked. This one gave more smoke, tinted green and smelling of the wand’s fruit. Ollivander nodded in satisfaction. “Close, very close. Perhaps…” He tapped his own wand to his chin. “Oh yes, let us try…” He walked away to the wall and came back with another box. He opened it, but didn’t remove the wand, just presented the opened box to Neville. “English Oak, 12”, surprisingly springy, unicorn hair.”

Neville picked it up with reverence. This one looked like a branch just snapped at a knob from the tree and worn to smoothness. The ridges of the bark could still be seen. The only decoration were the lighter rings carved around the wood at the hilt and tip. 

He didn’t even flick. Just picking up the wand resulted in the gorgeous sparks Draco’s presented.  

Ollivander actually laughed. “How delightful. This wand and young Mr. Malfoy’s actually share cores, you know. The hairs are from the same unicorn, the matriarch from the Forbidden Forest. The English Oak was actually acquired at the same time. It seemed to have jumped into my hand straight from the branches. I just knew it’s owner would be interesting indeed.”  

“Cool.” Draco breathed, stepping up to grab Neville’s arm and shake it in his excitement while Lucius paid.

The last stop of the day was the apothecary.  Neville was paying more attention to his familiar, making sure she stayed close, than he was to where he was going. So it was no surprise when he bumped into someone right as they were entering the shop. 

“Are you incapable of watching where you are going, you little cretin?” 

Draco would recognize that voice anywhere, despite the unusual vitriol. “Uncle Severus? Hi! Are you picking out potions ingredients today too?” Draco peeked around the corner of the door. He had yet to come inside. 

“To my horror. I should have known better than to go so close to when school started back. Hello, Draco. I sincerely hope this is not one of your friends.” Severus glared down his hawkish nose. 

Neville couldn’t even stutter out an apology. 

“This is my best friend, Neville Longbottom. We apologise about bumping into you, but he’s just concerned about his new cat.” Draco grabbed one of Neville’s arms in solidarity while he pointed at the cat in question. 

Severus’ eyes narrowed even furthur. “Let me guess. He is going to be profoundly ludicrous and bring that thing to Hogwarts?”

Draco nodded happily, ignoring his Godfather’s bad mood. It wasn’t unusual, even if he didn’t normally sound so caustic when speaking with Draco. Maybe it was because they were in public. “Isn’t she so beautiful? And she’s really well behaved.”

“Hmm.” Severus observed the cat as she circled back to Neville and sat tall at his feet. She regarded Severus will yellow-gold eyes and slightly laid back ears as if he were the annoyance and not the boy beside her. “At least she is better mannered than her owner. Get back to your parents. They are speaking to Higgins further inside.” And with that he swept away with his black robes. 

Draco turned to Neville. “Uncle Severus will be our potions professor. I have no idea why he was so annoyed today. Probably because of the crowds. Pay him no attention. Come on, lets go.” And with that he pulled Neville inside.

~*~ 

The remainder of the trip went quickly, and Draco was happy when they took Neville back to the Longbottom Manor. It was funny to see Lady Longbottom’s face when Neville’s giant familiar stepped out of the floo flames. Before she could throw a fuss, his father put her back into her place by reminding her that she had given Lucius complete permission to replace Trevor. 

Speaking of. “What will you name her?” Draco asked Neville as they quickly stepped into a separate sitting room with the cat on their heels. This room was smaller and less grand. The Lady called it the children’s sitting room. The adults would keep talking about the prices of things and how much Diagon Alley had changed or not. And probably about Neville getting a new, better wand.

“I don’t really have a good name yet.” Neville shifted in his chair. Which meant he had a name, but didn’t want to be made fun of for it. 

Draco pretended he didn’t know. “Well, what about after a plant? You really enjoy Herbology. Or maybe another one of those strange muggle names that you’re good at coming up with?” He didn’t let on how satisfied he was when Neville cracked a small smile and stroked down the cat’s back.

“Well, what about Heather? It’s a kind of shrub that gives pretty small flowers. And it's a blue-gray color. And it’s muggle.” Neville defended his choice.   
The cat, Heather, gave a resounding purr and gently bullied her way onto Neville’s (thankfully) overlarge chair. 

“Heather is a perfect name for a cat.” Draco nodded sagely. “I’m not as good at naming as you are. I’ll be going through some of our new school books to find a name for my owl. Maybe something goblin. He gives a good goblin impression with his ears.” At that, Draco extended his index fingers and placed his hands atop his head in a practical demonstration that made Neville laugh. 

After a moment, Draco laughed along with him. He was so glad Neville was his friend. And Hogwarts wasn’t going to change that. No matter what house Neville ended up in. 


	4. All Aboard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Draco and Neville meet that boy from the robe shop again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry about the delay! And I have to unfortunately report that the next chapter might be delayed too. Ugh. Adulting is hard.

Draco woke up before the sun feeling more queasy than excited. Today was the day. He was leaving for Hogwarts. Thank Merlin Neville was going with him. Draco was already having a hard time thinking of leaving his parents. Don’t get him wrong; he wanted to go to Hogwarts. He wanted to learn magic. He wanted to learn magic with Neville. He wanted to make his parents proud. But he’d never been away from his parents for more than a week before.   
Why couldn’t Hogwarts allow students to come home over the weekends? Maybe not even every weekend. Perhaps just fortnights? That would be better than holidays only. Perhaps he could convince Father to make a school board ruling along those lines. It was worth the thought. 

As he got ready, Draco didn’t even have Neville as a distraction. Neville’s Gran in her infinite wisdom had told them that Neville would spend the last night with her instead of them. And that she would be accompanying him to the train. Because she just had to show off that her only grandson wasn’t a Squib. Again. Like Neville’s magic mattered more than he did. 

Draco spun around his room to take stock of what still needed to be done before Mother made it her business. His trunk was packed. Mostly. Okay, so he had been packing for close to two weeks. But then last night after Mother had tucked him away, he’d had a moment of panic and ripped everything out of the wardrobe to begin packing again. And then promptly fell asleep. The elves had done their job quietly after that, rehanging and packing all of his wardrobe that had been strewn across the floor. He checked the second and third drawers in his trunk. It looked like they’d even put all of his books and potions supplies back. 

All he would have to worry about this morning was Grimblot, his owl. And his wand. And choosing his clothes for the train. And if Neville made it to the station on time or if Draco would be sent off on the train and arrive at Hogwarts all by himself. As if; he’d just find a way to jump off. Perhaps he would survive, but that wasn’t the point. The point was not going alone.

Draco did his morning rituals on auto-pilot. Including his own hair that he did twice as carefully as normal. He was used to Mother doing it for him, but he’d have to be doing it on his own soon enough. Best become good at it now.   
Previously, if left to himself, Draco would have slicked it straight back over his head and be done with it. Everything was much quicker that way. But 

Neville had said, in his quiet way, that it looked similar to a shell and that Mother did it better. From Neville, that was practically a demand that Draco never do his own hair. It had been mortifying for Draco, but at least Neville was his friend. Best to find out that something looked silly from a friend instead of strangers at school. Image was important, after all. 

So he had made Mother teach him how to find his side part and used paste instead of gel to make a mellow and flexible pompadour.   
After checking his reflection, and resigned to fixing his hair over and over again with his fingers, Draco crept out into the hallway. He was sure his parents were up; it was such an important day. But he didn’t know if he wanted them to know that he was up yet. He found them eating in the solarium. Well, they were at the breakfast table. But they were more interested in the heated discussion brewing between them than breakfast. Draco could only understand snatches.

“Just because -- was able to break in--” 

“You can’t think it coincidence! This year?”

“Don’t interrupt me, woman! Coincidence -- to even think--” 

“-- shouldn’t go. What if they’re sorted--” 

“--You only have the one son! Stop--”

“-- targeted! They shouldn’t go! I won’t have them--!”

“--not a problem, Cissa! He cannot be back. And tradition--”

“-- right to know! We should do something!” 

“--is how it starts! We musn’t interfere-- politically unstable!”

“Lucius! Please!” 

Draco couldn’t take it anymore. But he also knew his parents would never tell him if he asked outright. So he tapped on the slightly-opened door before stepping inside with a confident smile. 

“Good Morning!” He cheered as if flobberworms weren’t making making themselves home in his stomach and up his throat. When he looked up from the floor, his parents already had doting affection masking their faces. 

Sometimes he forgot how easy they wore masks. He could never blame them for it; it was just how they were. But sometimes he could hate it. Mother was the first to respond. “Good Morning, sweetheart. How did you sleep?” 

Draco didn’t shrug, but it was a close thing. If they were going to wear masks, he would too. “Well enough. I’m really excited. We’re meeting Neville at the Platform, yes?” 

Father rolled his eyes. At least that was genuine. “Yes. Lady Longbottom and Neville will be at the Platform around half past ten. That should be plenty of time to get reacquainted with the boy you haven’t seen in a day and a half.” 

Draco sniffed. He hoped it was hauty. He sat at his place, his plate full of his favorites. He gave his Mother a more genuine smile before tucking in. If he hadn’t heard their discussion, he would think the silence companionable. Instead, it just felt glaringly loud. Who broke into where? Where did Mother not want them sorted? At least he knew ‘them’ was Neville and himself. Mother would not care about anyone else sorting age. What did they have a right to know, though? Something about Neville’s parents? Or maybe about the sorting? Draco was pretty certain they didn’t really have to fight a troll. That was just nonsense. 

Draco had to fight to keep the flobberworm down again. He took one last bite and began to ask to be excused when Father’s hand on his own stopped him from pushing back his plate. When Draco looked, Father was actually looking Mother. He was still looking at Mother when he began speaking. 

“Draco, we know you are excited about school. As you should be. To be accepted to Hogwarts is a long held tradition of the Malfoy family that we place great pride in.” When he seemed like he was done, Draco flipped his own hand over to give Father’s a squeeze. 

“I know, Father. And I will do you proud. Just give me a few years and I will be Slytherin Seeker and a prefect!” 

Father looked down at that. His masked smile was strained. “Just so. However, your mother and I believe some caution would also not go remiss.” Draco kept silent, to show he was listening. But he reached out for Mother’s hand too. She looked like she needed the reassurance. “You will hear things. Many different things. About Neville. About you. About us. About the War. Some may even be true. Most of these you will hear from fellow students; only opinions spoken by their parents and percolated through the children’s minds before being regurgitated at the most inappropriate times.When, not if, but when this happens: Think before you respond. Respond responsibly. And then go to Severus or owl us if you have any concerns."

“Any concerns,” Mother chimed in while she squeezed Draco’s hand to take his attention. “Any concerns about anything. Big or small. And we will respond as promptly and with the best counsel as possible. The War was a dark time, Draco. We don’t want you thinking much upon it now. But it has shaped our present, and will continue to shape our future. Many things were changed because of it and many of those changes are still being felt.” 

“Do you understand?” Father asked. 

Draco didn’t. Not really. He could guess. His best guess was that the children would treat Neville differently if they found out about his parents. About his Gran thinking he was a Squib. But like most conversations with Father, it wasn’t about understanding right now. It was about remembering so that he would understand when something happened later. However, now that he had an opening. 

“Mother, why do you think we shouldn’t go to Hogwarts?”

Both adults froze, and watched him with speculation. But he thought perhaps also with a little pride. 

“Your Mother is under the impression that it might be slightly unsafe. Due to a break in at Gringotts.”

Draco wrinkled his nose. “Gringotts. The bank? What does the break in at the bank have anything to do with school?”

Father eyed Mother. “Indeed.”

Mother colored some but looked at Father while she spoke to Draco. “It is just highly unusual. And Gringotts has many of the same wards in place as Hogwarts. So it stands to reason that someone that could break into Gringotts could also break into Hogwarts.” She turned to Draco. “But your Father is right. The possibility is incredibly small. I’m just your mother. It is my responsibility to worry.” She squeezed Draco’s hand one last time before letting go. “But enough of that. You may be excused. Make sure everything is packed. We leave in a few hours.” 

Draco scrambled out of his seat, thoughts swirling. He had to tell Neville. Maybe he would know something. 

~*~

They used the floo to get to London station. It was by far the safest option. Other families may use apparition, but on such a busy day and with no real designated areas or time slots, the chance of one family apparating onto another was too high for any of the Malfoy’s to feel comfortable. And Father would never think to use the muggle side of the barrier that Neville had told Draco about. 

His first glimpse of the train made those flobberworms jump again. It was so long! Cherry-red with black trim and gleaming gold handrails. There were parents and children everywhere. Cats and owls stayed close to their individual owners. Draco held onto his trolly and craned his head around, looking for Lady Longbottom’s stupid vulture hat. At least it made them easy to spot. He was able to catch as Neville and his Gran seemed to materialize out of a long brick wall. Neville was pushing a trolly with two large trunks and Lady Longbottom’s hand was clamped hard onto the crook of Neville’s elbow. Neville was doing a pretty good job at hiding his discomfort. But he wasn’t as good at masks as Draco was.

Draco tugged at his parent’s arms and nodded in Neville’s direction. Mother gave a warm smile and Father rolled his eyes, but let Draco go ahead. He had to weave between people and trunks and cats glad for the trolly since it made people stay clear. “Hello, Lady Longbottom.” He greeted her first and stood slightly beside her, so she could grab onto his arm if necessary. He personally believed she didn’t need any help standing or walking, but just enjoyed using the boys as props. But manners first. And maybe she would let go of Neville for awhile. 

“Young Malfoy,” Lady Longbottom greeted. “What a day. Hogwarts for you two at last, hmm? I’m sure you’re as excited to be sorted into Slytherin as Neville here is to be sorted into Gryffindor. I wonder where that will lead you.” Her voice was edge with something sharp. 

Draco held his tongue. He was quite good at it now. He looked past her to Neville, who hunched his shoulders in apology. 

“Now now, Augusta!” Mother was the first to join the group. “I know you will miss them just as much as I. No reason to get defensive now. You won’t lack for company; I will still come to visit.”

Lady Longbottom snorted in derision. But her grip must have let up on Neville if Draco read his expression correctly. And she stood a little taller, a little more sure. She turned to Neville. “Now, do you have everything? Where’s that cat of yours?”

Neville motioned to his trunks with his hand. Sure enough, Heather was sitting tall on top of her light colored wicker crate. She was staring straight at a Grimblot, who was puffing himself up to appear bigger in his own cage atop Draco’s trunk. How Draco had missed her as he approached was a mystery. Even Lady Longbottom seemed to be taken aback. “Well, at least she stays close. Not like the rest of these creatures.” Heather flicked her tail in agreement. 

Lady Longbottom reached up and gave Neville’s face a few hard pats. “Say goodbye to Lord and Lady Malfoy. They have done so much for you.” Neville ducked his head and walked around his trunks. At first he just held out his hand for Mother to take, but she just grabbed it to reel him into a hug. She often lost her propriety around Neville. Draco thought it was because Neville just made people want to hug him. Even Father clasped his shoulder warmly. The entire time Neville just bit his bottom lip to keep from smiling and blushed. 

“Be sure to write us,” Mother told him. She looked at Draco while she said it too. “All of us. And don’t hesitate to let us know if there is a problem. Your Father will be able to handle most things. As will your Gran, Neville. With both of them being on the School Board.”

“Make us proud,” Father and Lady Longbottom said at nearly the same time. They eyed each other with veiled suspicion. Draco kept from giggling. Neville not so much. But it broke the tension. Draco snuck in one last hug to his mother and took in the warmth from his Father’s hand falling on his shoulder. He turned to say goodbye to Lady Longbottom and received the same hard cheek pats. “Off you go. The train is filling up.” 

Draco and Neville nodded, before looking at each other, full of nerves. They set off for the back of the train which was much less busy, pushing their trolleys in front of them. 

Once they found an empty compartment, they had to use teamwork to get all three trunks and one owl cage on board. At least Heather had hopped off her trunk and onto the seating as soon as they began the heavy lifting. When they were settled, they looked out the window, faces close together, as they tried to spot their guardians. Two blond heads and a vulture were at the very back of the bustling crowd. Draco opened the window and raised his hand. Mother raised a handkerchief. 

There was one long whistle. Everyone still on the platform began moving twice as fast; twice as dizzyingly. Draco lost sight of the handkerchief. Neville clutched his arm. Then another long whistle and the crowd thinned of children nearly immediately. A third whistle, and the train began rocking, slowly gaining momentum. Draco strained to see where his parents had gone. Neville pointed to where he saw the vulture hat. Mother’s hand raise higher, handkerchief waving slowly. And then the train was moving too quickly and the platform was gone. 

Draco settled down. Neville sat across from him, where Heather had already made herself at home halfway across his lap. The cabin was full of her reassuring purr. Draco watched the passing scenery in silence. Stores, then houses. Neville picked up on his reluctance to talk and pulled out a small wizarding almanac to flip through, mouth moving along as he read. He was probably studying for Herbology. Draco thought about telling him he should be reading for Potions instead since it was one of his worst subjects. But he didn’t think he could get anything through his throat. 

~*~

The door was thrown open not long after to present the Weasley twins. “Oh, what do we have here, Fred?”

“Is it ickle Neville and his even more ickle blond minder?” George asked. Draco could feel his nose scrunch in distaste even as he tried to keep his face smooth. Well, in for a Knut, in for a Galleon. 

“Do my eyes deceive me or are there two great big bean poles at our door?” Draco asked Neville dryly. The twins were about to say something in retort, but Heather stretched over Neville’s lap, showing off her size.

“Woah!” The twins exclaimed at once, noticing her for the first time. “The ickle first years have a not-so-ickle cat!” Heather turned to regard them with her uncomfortable gaze. “Obviously Lee’s tarantula wouldn’t be in here if it knew what was good for it.” One twin said to the other. The other waved to the younger years while he backed out of the cabin, eyes still on the large cat. “Have fun getting Sorted! Hope you two end up in the same house! It’ll be fun watching.”

“What tarantula? What do you mean by fun to watch?” Draco asked as they closed the door and started to follow after them. “Hey!” He opened the door back, but they were already out of the hallway. He stepped back inside and slid the door closed with a huff. “Weasleys are so weird! Thank Merlin I won’t be in the same house as them.” He looked over to Neville, who had been quiet during the entire exchange. 

“Neville?”

Now it was Neville’s turn to look resolutely out the window. But Draco could see he was watching Draco in the reflection. After a moment, Neville spoke. “What if we end up in different houses? We will definitely be in different houses. You heard Gran. You’ll go into Slytherin and, if I’m lucky, I’ll go into Gryffindor. I’ll probably have to make friends with the Weasleys. And then you won’t be my friend anymore.” 

After taking a moment to think about it, Draco plopped next to Neville; a spot Heather just vacated so she could try fitting her entire self on Neville (again) and gracefully fell to the floor to stay at his feet when it became obvious it wouldn’t work (again). “Your house doesn’t matter.”

Neville snorted. 

“I’m being serious.” Draco knocked their shoulders together. “It doesn’t matter to me. And it won’t matter to my parents. Yes, there is going to be some rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor. But that doesn’t mean we have to participate. I won’t participate if it means alienating my first friend. And I can tolerate the Weasleys. You saw how well I did with those freakishly tall gingers.”

“What if we’re told not to speak with each other?”

“By who? The professor’s have no right. There’s no rules against visiting with members of another house. Father told me so. And who cares what our so-called peers think. We are heirs Longbottom and Malfoy. Together we will own a little over a third of the Wizengamot when we’re older. More when I gain the Black inheritance. We have no peers.” He stuck his nose and chin high into the air in a way that always made Neville laugh. 

“Besides, we don’t know what house we will really be in. That’s up to the Sorting Hat Mother told me about. Maybe I’ll be in Ravenclaw and there won’t be a house rivalry to worry about.” 

Neville rolled his eyes. “You’re Slytherin all the way, don’t pretend. I’m more likely to end up in Hufflepuff than Gryffindor anyways.” Draco knew Neville meant it to be self-depreciating. Instead, he just knocked their shoulders together again. “Doesn’t matter to me. I’ll still be your friend. And besides, both have gold as base notes. You’d look good in either black or red.”

He succeeded in getting another little laugh. “What is with you and clothes?”

“Image is important, I’ll have you know. Speaking of--” 

There was a knock at the door and it was slid open. “Hello, dearies. Anything from the cart?” Draco surged forward. Mother had told him of the treat trolly and Father had given him some Sickles. But he was rather disappointed at the variety. There only seemed to be Burt's Every Flavor Beans and some Exploding Bon Bon’s left. Neither were things he nor Neville enjoyed. The kind lady with dimples noticed his minor disappointment. 

“I am sorry, dearie. Some child further up the bought most of the chocolates. And you are rather close to the back,” she explained. 

“That’s all right.” Draco gave her an understanding smile. “Maybe next time. We haven’t had lunch yet anyways.” He slid the door closed rather quickly so he could drop his mask. 

“That berk!” He exploded when he knew she could no longer hear. It made Neville jump. Draco felt like he had to explain himself. “Someone bought all the good treats!” 

“All of them?” Neville asked, incredulously. 

“That’s what the trolly lady said!” 

“Well, we really should eat lunch…” Neville’s sentence tapered off at Draco’s look. He sighed and stood. “Or we could go investigate. Maybe we could become friends with him and get a few sweets for free?”

Draco threw the compartment door open and laughed. “And you say I’ll be in Slytherin.” They travelled down the train with Heather in tow, peeking into windows or doors left open to see if they could find evidence of candy hoarding. Heather stopped at one closed door and barely scratched it open. Neville peeked inside before he motioned Draco to come see. There were wrappers all over the floor. But that was all Neville saw before Draco threw the door open to confront their culprit. 

It was Ron Weasley and that boy they met at the robe shop. The one that seemed genuinely interested in being sorted into Hufflepuff. Ron had his face stuffed; a chocolate frog leg dangled from his mouth. Draco rounded on him first. 

“I should have known you would be the one that hoarded all of the sweets. I just didn’t expect you would be able to afford this all.” Ron colored and began trying to clear his mouth. “What? Don’t tell me you had him buy all of this for you! Obnoxious! Like the rest of your ratty family.”

“So I guess you three know each other.” Draco turned to listen to the other boy and gave a smile (despite the other occupant in the room).

“Harry, right? I believe we met at Madam Malkin's.” Draco reached out his hand for a shake.

Before Harry could decided on weather or not to take it, Ron finally spoke up. Even though his mouth was still stuffed full. Draco watched in disgust and lowered his hand. “Malfoy! What are you doing here. No one invited you!”

“Like you should talk about invitations! No manners whatsoever. Once again eating sweets that aren’t yours! You probably guilted him into buying them all for you!” Draco shouted back.

“Hey!” Harry spoke up with some outrage. “I bought all of this because I wanted to try it. And to share it with some friends.” His hands were fisted into his too-large clothes. “Although maybe I shouldn’t share with you two if this is how you act.” 

“How I act?” Draco scoffed and threw an accusing finger at Ron. “What about that berk!? He probably hasn't even eaten his lunch yet!”   
Harry's hands shook as he lifted his chin. “I think you need to leave.”

Neville grabbed onto Draco's bicep in agreement, ready to pull him back. At that moment, Heather pushed herself past Neville's legs, gently unbalancing both boys. 

Ron began shrieking. “Who let that bloody big cat in! He’s going to eat Scabbers!” He jumped onto his seat and held a rat over his head protectively. The thing was wriggling like crazy. Heather just stayed at Ron’s feet. Her tail was swaying and her fur was up. Her eyes never left the rat and she began growling. Draco had never seen her react like that before, not even to Grimblot. But he took the advantage given to him while Neville called out for Heather to stop.

Draco bent forwards to the floor and scooped up as many pumpkin pasties and chocolate frogs he could reach. He tossed them into the basket he made of his button down shirt before popping back up onto his feet. 

Heather finally began listening to Neville and reason. She began backing up, almost herding as she kept pushing her two boys behind her as she kept her eyes on the rat. Draco smirked when Harry and Ron noticed the pouch of purloined goods. Ron was the one to make a shouted “Hey!” about it. But neither boys wanted to try pushing past Heather. 

As they got to the door, Draco dug into his jean pocket for the sickles he had been prepared to spend and tossed them lightly in Harry's direction. “Compensation. Never let it be said that a Malfoy steals or bums. Best of luck with your budding friendship!” He slammed the door with his free hand when Heather was clear.

They made it back to their carriage without problem and Draco spread out the bounty for Neville to see. Neville looked from the candy to Heather to Draco and back again. “What happened to making friends?” He asked. 

Draco huffed. “You're the one that wanted to make friends. Not me. And it was Ronald. The worst Weasley of the lot.”

“So you stole Harry's treats? Because of Ron?” Neville asked, pointing out the unfairness of it.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Don't sound so put out. I paid for them. It was Heather that made the takeover forceful.”

Both boys looked to Heather, who was just patiently grooming her fur like nothing had happened. They made the executive decision to ignore shrug and move on.

~*~

After eating their lunches (at Neville’s insistence) and having some sweets, Draco reopened the discussion that the trolly lady had interrupted. “Will you let me do something with your hair before we get dressed?”

Neville touched his unstyled hair self-consciously. Draco hadn’t brought it up before, but it looked like the bangs were cut unevenly recently. “I thought Gran hadn’t done too bad of a job with the last cut. Is it that noticeable?”

“It’s not bad,” Draco shrugged. “I only noticed because I notice these things.”

At that moment, the door opened without a knock. “Has anyone seen a tarantula? One of the upper years decided to bring one against the rules and now it’s running around loose!” A bossy bushy-haired witch called out. The boys responded in the negative. She eyed first Draco, then Neville. “You’re bangs are uneven,” she said to Neville after a moment. She pulled at a section of her own bangs. “Just here. In case you didn’t know.” When the boys didn’t respond back, she swept back out of the compartment. “And we will be there soon! So maybe put on your robes!”

Neville was going red in embarrassment. But Draco just rolled his eyes and closed the door behind the girl. “Like she can talk about anyone’s hair! Anyways, we could put product in it to make it look better. Make it look a little messy on purpose instead of a little uneven. Don’t you want to make a good impression with your housemates?” 

Neville hunched his shoulders, undecided. “Hey!” Draco started to joke. “You can trust me. I did my hair all by myself this morning, I’ll have you know. No shell head here!” 

Neville laughed. “Yeah. You did a pretty good job. Go ahead, do something to mine, too.”

Draco scrambled to stand on his seat to reach into his trunk for the paste. Neville wrinkled his nose at the container. Draco noticed. “It’s not that gel I used to use. Mother got me something that dries soft instead of sticky. I much prefer it even though the hair doesn’t stay the same. Now hold still.” 

Neville aborted his nod as Draco scooped a small amount from the jar and stood in front of him. He rubbed his hands together, then ran them through Neville’s hair, messing it up. Just a little. So it didn’t look flat. Then he messed with the bangs some. He couldn’t decide between up or down. Eventually, he decided down since they were a little too long to do up with just paste. He stepped away, pleased, and scrubbed his hands on some clean lunch napkins. “I’ll teach you how to do it next time. Be careful when you change into your school robes.” 

Draco turned around to put the paste back up in his trunk and grab his clothes as well. Neville looked at his reflection in the window before doing the same. They locked the door and made sure to change with their backs turned. The robes felt heavy. Draco wasn’t used to wearing any robes. Wizarding children didn’t really start wearing them until Hogwarts. 

Neville fussed with his slate tie before looking at Draco with resignation. Draco rolled his eyes and made up his own around his neck before loosening it and lifting it over his head to give it to Neville. Then he took Neville’s tie as his own. “You’re going to have to learn that.”

Neville sighed. “I know. I’ve tried doing it in the mirror like Mr. Malfoy showed us. But it always comes out wrong. Too skinny.” 

“You probably don’t do the second knot. We’ll practice when we have more time.” Draco assured him. He used the windows to fix back his hair into the gentle wave again, and noticed the countryside going past was slowing down. “I think we’re getting there.”   
Just as he made the comment, they could hear the breaks engage and the train made it quickly to a stop. There was a call that trunks and cages should be left on the train. Familiars could come uncaged if they were well behaved. Then everyone began pouring out at once. Hunger and excitement pushed them forward. 

“Firs’ years! Firs’ years to the boats!” Draco and Neville continued forward in the crowd their size to find a large man. It was Hagrid; the man that Harry said had taken him school shopping. “This A'way!” Hagrid called. They followed him at a distance down a narrow steep path that lead to, wonder of wonders, short boats. 

Behind the boats, past the waters of the Black Lake, was the Hogwarts castle. Draco had been told of it’s halls since infancy. But that had not prepared him for the kick in his throat. It was magnificent; there were towers and spires. Nearly all of it’s unusually placed and shaped windows glowed with welcoming light. Neville took hold of his arm. Draco turned his head to give Neville a reassuring smile, but didn’t take his eyes off the castle. “I don’t think seven years is enough to explore this place.” He joked.

“No more ’an four to a boat!” Hagrid shouted out. “Watch yer pets. Cat’s won’t like this much!” Draco and Neville stepped into an empty boat. Heather jumped in daintily for her size; she didn’t even make the boat rock. Draco saw that Harry was pulled into a different boat by Ron. Soon, Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott joined them. Hannah cooed over Heather, and that made Neville smile, but they didn’t really speak to one other. Draco smiled and nodded at them but didn’t strike up conversation. He just watched as the castle got closer. 

They didn’t mind. It’s what they did too. Everyone felt a fizzle of anticipation. As they got closer, Draco noticed a great mawing cave that Hagrid steered his boat towards. “Watch your heads!” He called out. But his head was the only head in danger. All of the first years were much smaller than he was.   
Soon, they were disembarking and led up a wide staircase that ended at a huge oak door. Hagrid looked back at all of them, then gave a smile. 

“Welcome to Hogwarts!” He pounded three times on the door and walked away as it began to swing open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They will be friends! I swear! It'll just take some time.


	5. The Sorting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Draco makes a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully with this, I can get back to the every weekend schedule. But sorry in advance if that doesn't happen. 
> 
> Basically everything that Professor McGonagall, Dumbledore, and the Sorting Hat says is from JK Rowling's original book. So, you know, not stealing/ I do not claim these parts as my own. Etc. Etc.

The oak doors opened magically, revealing an old witch with dark eyes and pursed lips. Her arms were crossed over her body, one hand cupping an elbow, the other holding her wand. The children around them began crowding in to better hear her. “Welcome to Hogwarts. My name is Professor McGonagall. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room. 

“The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points, while any rule-breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours. 

“The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.” After this long-winded speech, she eyed Ron critically. Then turned to Neville. Draco realized Neville had already messed up his robe and tie. “I will return for you momentarily.” And she left. 

Draco spun Neville to face him quickly, tugging at Neville’s tie with one hand and his robe with the other. “How do you do this to yourself?” He muttered while he fixed. Heather pressed herself against Draco’s leg. Draco pretend he was shaking due to her purr. “What about me? How do I look?”

Neville gave Draco consideration. “Maybe tuck your hair again?” Draco’s hand flew to his hair. “But really, Draco, you look fine.” He gave a wane smile. “Besides, there’s so many of us that no one is going to stand out. Right?”

Draco gave a serious nod and faced the front again. “Right.” But he secretly crushed some of Neville’s robe in his closest palm. Just so they wouldn’t lose each other in the crowd of first years. He shouldn’t be so nervous. They’d already promised they would be friends, regardless of their Houses. But Professor McGonagall made it seem like the only friends you could make were inside your own House. Draco didn’t have any friends besides Neville. And he wasn’t interested in making any more. He didn’t know how to make more. 

Draco couldn’t remember how he had made friends with Neville in the first place! They met when he was too young for him to string thoughts together, probably. The moving pictures in the hidden living areas of the manors told him as much. Baby playmates. 

But at 11 years old, standing in a clamouring sea of rumors and whispers, Draco could suddenly place his first remembered memory of Neville, probably his very first memory, because Neville had always been that important. 

In the memory, Draco had been woken by his father's arms wrapped tight around him, bringing him off the floor and away from a cuddling Neville. Draco remembered screaming, screaming so loud he'd scared his father and woken Neville. Neville confessed later he hadn't recognized Mr. Malfoy, just a stranger trying to take his friend. But Neville hadn't cried. He'd just jutted out his chin and held onto Draco harder, and told that apparent stranger that he'd have to take both of them. Mr. Malfoy had huffed his annoyance, and ripped Draco out of Neville's arms anyways, because he's never had time for tantrums. And Draco remembered, with breath-altering certainty, that that was the last time he was going to see his friend. His Neville. 

Of course, his father just took him home, all the while scolding him about his lack of propriety and abundance of tears, and tucked him to bed. And the next day, Draco is sure, although he can't remember, that his mother brought him back to the Longbottom manor and he was reunited with Neville once more. 

But that memory, that shattering clarity that Neville could so easily be taken away from him (or him from Neville) never stopped being the most terrifying thing he's ever experienced. 

And now here he was, surrounded by other people that might be in his House, or in Neville’s house (which might be worse), with dread filling his stomach (or was that bile?) because he just knew, as he knew then, that the stupid hat was going to tear him away from Neville.

He had half a mind to drag Neville and Heather away and out the door. But at that moment, several people screamed. Neville jumped and clutched at Draco’s arm. They whipped around towards to commotion to see about 20 ghosts streaming through the back wall. A few were holding a conversation. Something about someone named Peeves. 

The ghost that the other’s called Friar looked down at all of the frightened students. “My my, that time of year already! About to be Sorted, I suppose?”

Some of the braver students gave confirmation. “Well, hope to see you in Hufflepuff!” The Friar gave a congenial smile. “It was my old House, you know.” He gave a wink to the silent students and moved on just as Professor McGonagall returned. 

She gave one last glance to the shocked students and gave a decisive nod. “Form a line, please. And follow me.”

Neville pushed Draco ahead of him. Heather walked at Draco’s side, and Draco knew Neville was reading his body language. So Draco rolled back his shoulders and tilted his chin. He could do this. Everyone else was doing this. So so could he. He was Draco Lucius Malfoy. The procession walked out of the chamber, through the hallway, and through a pair of double doors that lead to the Great Hall. 

It was beautiful. Mother had told Draco that the ceiling was enchanted to reflect the sky, but it didn’t prepare him for the thousands of stars. And candles. And faces watching him, looking eerily like ghosts themselves due to the flickering candle lights. 

At the front, Professor McGonagall placed a diminutive little stool in a bright pool of light. On top of the stool went a tattered and frayed witches hat. The Sorting Hat, Draco realized with dread. Mother had been telling the truth. For a few seconds, there was an anticipatory silence. Then, the hat twitched. An exposed seam opened up near the bottom, like a mouth. And the thing began to sing: 

“Oh you may not think I'm pretty,  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry  
Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
if you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folks use any means  
To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The whole Great Hall, all four rows of tables (the Houses, Draco realized belatedly) burst into applause. The hat gave a bow that made Draco think it would fall of its little stool. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen. 

Professor McGonagall stepped forward with a roll of parchment. “When I call out your name, sit on the stool and put on the hat to be sorted. Now, Abbott, Hannah.” 

Hannah gave her friend, Susan, a small smile and made her way quickly to the front. The hat was put upon her head. Then it called out, loud enough to startle nearly all of the First Years, “HUFFLEPUFF!” 

Everyone cheered, but the Hufflepuff table was obviously the loudest. 

Next was Susan Bones, Hannah’s friend. She quickly got sorted into Hufflepuff as well. Draco made a conscious effort not to scowl. If only that would happen for him so easily. 

He didn’t catch many names. He was mostly too absorbed with he own thoughts about how he could continue being friends with Neville. Maybe he could pretend to tutor him? Neville was actually pretty quick in understanding things if you showed him. But a lot of adults didn’t understand that. They would probably think that Neville really did need help. But would they let someone outside of his House help him? 

A girl named Bulstrode went into Slytherin. The name seemed familiar. Draco thought her father might have dealings with his. Crabb and Goyle were more familiar. But even less welcome. And that Granger girl was called and sorted into Gryffindor. 

All too soon, Neville was called. He squeezed Draco’s wrist tight as he walked past and up towards the front. Heather followed. Neville stumbled going up the two steps, but a hip check by Heather righted him. His cheeks were fighting between pale in nervousness and red in embarrassment. He closed his eyes as he sat down and the hat dropped low on his head. Heather sat beside him, facing out towards the crowd. 

Draco heard the whispers about Heather, about if she was even allowed in the school with being as big as she was. Draco tried ignoring them. Neville’s sorting results were more important. But the hat was quiet. For a long time. People switched from whispering about Heather to whispering about Neville. Neville squeezed his eyes tighter and hands were bloodless on the stool. Draco leaned forward on his feet. He didn’t know what he could do. But he wished he was doing it. 

Finally, the hat called out “HUFFLEPUFF!!”. Draco’s heart settled back into his chest and he clapped as loudly as the majority of the Hufflepuff house put together. Neville nearly forgot to put the hat back down, but Heather stood in front of him long enough to remind him to wretch it off and place it on the stool. He started going to the Hufflepuff table but sought out Draco with his eyes. Draco gave a big grin before facing front again. 

It was Draco’s turn much too soon. He walked as calmly to the front as he could, mask in place even though he was sure everyone must be able to see through it to his writhing nerves. He put on the hat. And didn’t have to wait long. 

“Ah. Another Malfoy. You’ll be wanting Slytherin, I suspect.” Draco knew it must be whispering very quietly indeed. He hadn’t heard it speak to any of the others. And of course he should be in Slytherin. Every Malfoy was in Slytherin, Draco thought sullenly. No matter what he wanted. 

“Hmm. Very interesting. Brave of you, to even consider going into another House. Perhaps you should go into Gryffindor instead.” Draco hoped his expression of disgust didn’t make it to his mask. ~No,~ he thought very pointedly. ~Hufflepuff will be a much better choice, don’t you agree? I want to be with my friend Neville. Isn’t Hufflepuff about loyalty and friendship. Put me there.~

“Oh ho!” The Hat seemed to snort. “Manipulative. But a fair piece of logic. Ravenclaw might even be a better fit.” Draco shook his head firmly. ~No. Hufflepuff. Or put me back in Slytherin.~ 

“Well, alright. If you insist. It’s not like you can’t be ambitious and smart as well as true. But heaven help Ponoma these next seven years.” Draco thought that last muttered bit might not have been aimed at him. Before he could respond, the hat shouted out; “HUFFLEPUFF!”

His new House cheered just as loudly for him as they did for Neville. That was reassuring, since Draco was internally dumbfounded. He hadn’t actually thought that would work. And now that it had, he didn’t know where to go from there. Well, scratch that. 

He looked at Neville at the Hufflepuff table, who was clapping so hard his hands must hurt. Several students around him were motioning Draco forward. So that’s where he went. To his Houses’ table. To Hufflepuff. 

People scooted over so Draco could sit next to Neville. Neville slung his closest arm around Draco’s neck and shook him a little. But he didn’t say anything. That was okay. Draco knew, from previous conversations, that when Neville got too overwhelmed it was like his throat closed up. So Draco inferred correctly that Neville was just overwhelmed. But the good kind of overwhelmed. The happy kind.

Draco looked around now that he was seated. He was surrounded by a mass of black and yellow. People were reaching out to shake his hand and introduce themselves. He did his best to remember. Hannah and Susan were sitting directly in front of them. Another girl was sitting with them. The boy named Finch-Fletchley was sitting close by, in a conversation with a boy that was called just before Draco was. Draco couldn’t remember the name though. Everyone seemed so genuine. Draco hadn’t expected that. Maybe he should have. 

During his retrospection, a few more names had been called. Another Hufflepuff was chosen. Sally-Anne Perks. With a name like that Draco assumes she’s muggle-born. Then;

“Potter, Harry!” The Great Hall went silent. Then there was a whispering roar. A small boy started walking to the front. Draco recognized him immediately. Oh, that Harry. The Harry they met in the robe shop was the Boy-Who-Lived. Draco and Neville exchanged stunned glances. 

The hat took nearly as much time sorting Harry as it had Neville. People never stopped whispering the entire time. Neville hunched his shoulders. Draco winced in sympathy. Nobody liked being talked about.

Finally. . . “HUFFLEPUFF!” 

Harry’s head popped up from where it had been bowed. He tore the hat away to reveal flushed cheeks. He looked towards the Hufflepuff table in excitement. But no one was clapping. Draco thought everyone must be in shock. Draco knew he was. He’d always assumed that the Boy-Who-Lived would be in Gryffindor. Where the brave went. 

In the time it took for Draco’s brain to kick over, Harry lowered his eyes down and put the hat gently back on the stool, suddenly meek. Neville stood up and started clapping. He nudged Draco and an older boy on his other side, nodding furiously. Draco knew that Neville wanted to call out but couldn’t. So Draco did something he never thought he would do. He whooped. Loudly. 

And then everything started happening at once. The older boy on Neville’s other side started chanting. “We’ve got Harry Potter! We’ve got Harry Potter!” Some other boys and girls chimed in. 

Harry seemed like he might be rooted to the spot, eyes wide and limbs frozen. The same older boy rushed up and took Harry by the hands. Other older kids from Hufflepuff did the same, gently surrounding the boy. Thankfully their edge of the table was closest to the stage and the stool so Draco didn’t think they would get into trouble. 

Draco looked around to make sure and saw that the Weasley twins were pretend-crying on each others shoulders over at the Gryffindor table. When one caught Draco looking, he reached out with one arm beseechingly. Draco personally thought it was funny. But he sneered because they were Weasleys. 

When he looked up at the High Table quickly, he saw that Hagrid and some other professors were beaming. Not in trouble then. Then he took notice of his monochrome Godfather, who was looking angrily in the Hufflepuff knots direction. Draco gulped. He didn’t know if Uncle Severus was angry at the noisy Hufflepuffs or angry at Draco in particular. But he also didn’t want to find out. He jerked his eyes away quickly and pulled Neville to sit back down. 

Like a spell being cast, the other Hufflepuffs immediately settled too. Harry was pushed to sit next to the other new boys on the bench, two seats down from Draco. He was flushed all over again and kept his eyes down at his empty plate. 

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat pointedly. It echoed magically and all of the commotion ended so she could continue calling out names. Some Gryffindors. A couple more Slytherins. And how odd was it that Draco could have, at the very moment, be welcoming someone to the Slytherin table. He cast a look over to that table. They looked alright. All were wearing the masks that Draco and his parents wore in public. They all clapped politely. Draco bet none of them would willfully whoop. He felt his cheeks heat up just thinking about it. 

As climatically as it began, the Sorting comes to an anti-climatic close. After the last first year, Professor McGonagall rolls up her scroll and dragged both hat and stool away. Draco kept his eyes on the stage and the High Table. He had briefly noticed Professor Dumbledore before, at his golden chair. As Draco watched, Professor Dumbledore stood, beaming with arms open wide. 

“Welcome!” His voice carried. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!” And he sat back down.

Draco couldn’t helped the strangled laugh. His parents were right. Professor Dumbledore was a little mad. He looked back down at his table, and barely kept his astonishment hidden. Every plate and dish was now full of food. The house elves must be very good indeed to manage that without even a pop. He followed everyone’s example and began filling his plate. 

Conversation was happening all around him. It was a little overwhelming. Every table he had ever been at only had one person talking at a time. He heard a lot of different snatches of conversation. 

“Before this, I was on the books for Eton. Nothing wrong with it, of course, but being magic is something else altogether--” That was the boy named Finch-Fletchley. 

“I’m a half-blood. We’ve been away in America most my life. Mother was researching the growth patterns of the Washington State Redwoods--” That was the Sally-Anne girl. 

“Oh! I’m so excited! We’ll be having classes with Harry Potter!” Draco wrinkled his nose. That was Hannah. She was always excited by the strangest things. 

After finishing a good portion of his meal, Draco looked over at Neville and they both shared grins. They were going to be in the same House! Hogwarts was going to be amazing. Draco couldn’t wait to tell his parents. 

At that thought, all of the blood drained from Draco’s face. Oh Merlin. His parents. What would they think? They were going to be so disappointed. How would he tell them? Should he even do it in a letter? Shouldn’t that be something he told them face-to-face? But what if they found out through someone else? Draco was sure some other children would write home and mention his House. It was strange for a Malfoy to be anything other than a Slytherin. More than strange. It was unheard of!

Draco couldn’t eat much after that. Even the chocolate eclairs that appeared during dessert were unappealing. Neville noticed but still couldn’t say anything. He just knocked his own head against Draco’s shoulder in silent support. 

“Ouch!” Both boys startled as Harry called out in pain. When Draco turned, his hand was clasped against his head in pain. 

Ernie laughed. “What is it, Potter? Brainfreeze?” 

Harry muttered something that Draco couldn’t hear. He was looking up at the High Table with suspicion. Ernie scoffed in reply. “I don’t know that turban-wearing one. But the surly looking one is Professor Snape.” Ernie cast a look at Draco. “Malfoy! Isn’t Professor Snape your Godfather?”

Draco nodded in the affirmative. He looked to Harry as he spoke. “He will be our potions professor. You will want to study ahead of time. He can be a little strict. But I like him anyways.” It wasn’t a ringing endorsement, but all of the First Years nodded and got back to eating their desserts. 

Once those were gone, Professor Dumbledore got back to his feet. The hall fell silent. “Just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. 

“First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.” His eyes twinkled and flashed across multiple students. The Weasley twins were two of them. 

“I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. 

“Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House should contact Madam Hooch. 

“And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.” 

Only a few students laughed. Mostly muggle-borns. The born wizards knew he wasn’t joking, no matter how ridiculously he said it.

“And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!” Professor Dumbledore’s voice raised. Draco noticed with a quick glance that many of the professors and students cringed. 

Dumbledore made words appear in the sky, and everyone began to sing. Horribly. Draco tried immediately to forget the whole experience. But it was stuck in his mind: 

Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,  
Teach us something please,  
Whether we be old and bald  
Or young with scabby knees,  
Our heads could do with filling  
With some interesting stuff,  
For now they’re bare and full of air,  
Dead flies and bits of fluff,  
So teach us things worth knowing,  
Bring back what we’ve forgot,  
Just do your best, we’ll do the rest,  
And learn until our brains all rot.”

The Weasley twins tried to make it funny by making it to the tune of a funeral march. But by the end, Draco just wanted to turn around and find his new bed. When Dumbledore called that it was time to do just that, Draco was ecstatic. 

The First years were instructed to follow Penny Haywood, a Hufflepuff Prefect. They follow her out the Great Hall and down a more traditional hallway. Down a stairway that only had one continuous straight hallway. They keep walking until it met a dead end full of giant barrels laid on their sides. The round tops were larger than a grown man. There were three across the bottom and two stacked on top. Draco thought that perhaps the bubbly blonde had momentarily lost her way. He would if he was being followed by such a big crowd.

But instead she just turned to all of them. “This is the doorway to our dorms. The password changes every three months. But it’s always easy to remember because it’s so fun.” She gave a grin before turning back to the middle barrel top. She tapped out a rhythm close to the center. Bump--Bump--Bump with the meat of her left hand, kinda slow. A very short pause. Then a faster Bump-smack-bump. The smack was with her open palm. 

The lid of the middle barrel slid up, giving the hoard of First years entrance. Penny stood aside and motioned everyone through. She kept talking. “The password is always going to be one-handed. Which is nice when you’ve got your books or bag. It can be done with either hand though. I’m just left handed.” She was the last through. “Boys dormitories will be immediately on your left. GIrls will be on your right. But first, please stay in here. Professor Sprout would like to speak with you all!”

Draco looked around with the rest of his Housemates. The common room was round and the ceiling was a low dome. The walls, what he could see past ivy and other growing things, was a calming yellow. There were round windows every few feet, but it was dark outside so there was nothing to see. Draco didn’t know what they would see anyways, since they were probably in the basement. After a few strides inside, the floor had two stair steps, then became a conversation pit. In the very center of the pit was an open fireplace with a fire crackling merrily. The smoke rose up into a round hole on the ceiling that glowed like the moon.

Around the fireplace, arranged haphazardly in the conversation pit, were couches and chairs. So many couches and chairs. Most were different shades of yellow and black. But some others were blue or red or green. And there were even more cushions and blankets, of every color. Tossed here and there over the seats and spilling into the floor. It was a marvelous chaotic mess. Mother would be scandalized. Draco grinned to himself. 

Professor Sprout came through the barrel door, and all of the first years turned to face her. “Hullo everyone! It’s so wonderful to greet new faces! Now, I realize everyone must be tired so I won’t keep you long. Just a few things. Please gather here in the morning around 7:30. I want to introduce some rules when you are wide awake before breakfast. And afterwards we will go together as a class so we can keep making friends. For now, I just wanted to see you all and let you all see me. I’ll be your head of house for the next seven years. I want you all to know that I will be around if you need anything. Anything at all. Enough now though, I can see some of you are struggling to stay on your feet! Off you pop. Boys on the left. Girls on the right.” 

Draco branched off with the rest of his gender, holding back a yawn with his teeth. There was a round archway that led to a hallway with round doors that branched off on each side. One had the label “First Years”. Ernie was at the front, and he threw the door open with reckless abandon. He was greeted by Heather and promptly jumped about a foot into the air.

For the first time that night, Draco realized he had lost track of Heather after she’d helped Neville up to the stage. A quick glance at Neville’s chagrin face showed that the other boy had too. How she had ended up in their dorm room would remain a mystery. Perhaps the house elves helped. 

Ernie laughed at himself (he remembered Heather from the boat ride over) and walked in. The dorm room was as round as the common room, but on a smaller scale. There were three niches in the wall, each wide enough for the length of a bunk bed and deep enough that there was a curtain that could close it off from the rest of the room. Draco noticed his wardrobe was against the wall at the foot of one bunk while Neville’s was at the head of the same bed. He gave the rest of the room a quick inspection. Ernie and Justin would be bunking together. But Harry had the last bunk bed on his own. Which was fair. He was the Boy-Who-Lived.

The boy in question walked to the bed that had his trunk and face-planted into the bottom bunk without hesitation. Draco could sympathize. But he knew he would be taking the top bunk. Neville wasn’t a fan of heights. He had just enough power left to change into nightclothes and wish Neville goodnight before he climb up the ladder to his new bed and fell asleep. 

He dreamed. Mostly of his parents. Of their reaction when he told them he was sorted into the Hufflepuff house. Father radiated disappointment and shame. Mother actually wept. She cried big tears that reminded him of the hysteria she went through when Neville had been dropped out of the window right before his magic saved him. They turned their backs and began walking away. And no matter how fast he ran, he couldn’t catch up.


	6. Hufflepuff House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Draco realizes his parents might disown him, but his House is pretty cool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.... 1. I'm sorry it's taking so long. When I started this series, I truly thought once a week was manageable. It is not. Which leads to 2. I'm going to have to decrease these postings to once every two weeks. But maybe a few surprises of early postings. And 3. The tenses are probably all over in this chapter. I did edit as many mistakes as I saw, but if you see more, please shout out in comments. I'll get around to editing. Maybe.

Draco woke up when Neville did. Mainly because Neville tripped on the curtain that separated the bunk from the rest of the room and nearly tore it from its anchors. Needless to say, everyone in the dorm woke when Neville did. Except for Harry, Draco noticed. Because Harry was already awake and on his made bed, reading from one of his school books.

“Nice to see you haven’t changed, eh Neville?” Macmillan gently ribbed as he climbed down the ladder to gather his toiletries. Finch-Fletchley squinted, head raised from his pillow.

Neville blushed and apologized. “Sorry. Really meant to be quieter than that. But, we should probably all be up anyways? It’s half past six and we’ve got to share the loo.”

“Me first!” Draco sped down the ladder and beat Neville and Macmillan to the adjoined bathroom. His toiletries were already there from last night. And he could grab a change of clothes after.

Macmillan called out ‘No Fair!’ but Finch-Fletchley just grunted and returned to sleep. Neville rolled his eyes at Draco’s antics and walked over to where Harry was on his bed. “Morning. How’d you sleep?” Neville asked.

Harry shrugged in return. "Pretty well, I guess. I was really tired from the train." He looked like he wanted to return to his book. But he kept the conversation going. "I like… your pajamas?" He spoke like it was a question.

Neville looked down at himself. He was just wearing one of his three pajama sets. It was a lighter blue and had dark piping at the seams. He looked back up and noticed Harry had covered his eyes with his hand. "Thanks. Mrs. Malfoy got them for me. I was a little surprised since they're so modern-- Lord and Lady Malfoy are rather traditional, you see-- but I like them. Much more than the nightshirts Draco wears."

“That nightdress?” Harry asked with some curiosity. Macmillan cackled in the background. Neville winced.

“Please don’t call it that. Draco would be cross.” Neville leveled a look at Macmillan before turning back to Harry. “Besides, lots of wizards still wear nightshirts instead of pajamas. Especially the more traditional families.”

Harry looked like he wanted to ask some more questions. But Draco came out of the bathroom and so he buried his head back into his book. Neville noticed it was the Potions text. Before he could try to draw Harry into some more conversation, Draco with his head pushed into his wardrobe began speaking.  
"Neville, don't let me forget to owl Mother. I will need different clothes. Less green. More gold."

“Oh, that’s right!” Macmillan exclaimed as he took his turn to go to the bathroom. “You should’ve been Slytherin. All your family was, right? Won’t your Mum be in for a shock!” He closed the door behind him and so missed the stricken look on Neville’s face.

Harry didn't. But he was supposed to be reading his textbook so didn't remark on it. Draco noticed, too. And all he did was raise an inquisitive eyebrow.

“I’m so sorry Draco!” Neville stuttered out. His two front teeth bit harshly into his lip. “It must be all my fault you sorted into Hufflepuff! All I could think about last night was how mad Gran will be, but I’m used to that! I didn’t even consider Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy! It’s got to be my fault. You would have never sorted into Hufflepuff without me. Tell them that.”

Draco scoffed. "I'll tell them no such thing. I'm sure Mother will be secretly pleased. Gray and green are one thing, but silver does terrible things to my skin tone. It would have been a ghastly seven years. And Father will probably get over any disappointment by Yule." He rolled his eyes uncharacteristically. He'd already whooped in the middle of supper. He might as well keep going. And he rather liked this not having to keep a mask thing.

Well, he was still masked. He couldn't let Neville on to how terrified he was at the thought of owling Mother. But he wasn't lying about his exasperation towards Neville. It wasn't Neville's fault, after all. Draco himself was the one that had argued with the Hat. In fact, he should probably tell Neville sooner or later. But perhaps when it was just them.

Macmillan came out and Neville replaced him. Draco joined Heather on Neville’s unmade bed, sitting carefully so he wouldn’t muse his hair or his robe. She grunted without opening her eyes as if bothered. But she did nothing but purr when Draco began scratching under her chin gently. He glanced over at Harry and nodded approvingly when he saw Harry reading the Potions book. Harry was so busy reading, he didn't see him.

~*~

The First Year boys walked out of the room together, only a few minutes late due to Finch-Fletchley, and were met with a hoard of students. Every student from every year in Hufflepuff. All of them in the Common room, sitting on couches or around the floor, leaning against the walls (while being conscious of the plants) and on the edge of the now-dead fire pit. The ages were mixed; no one year regulated to a specific area. Everyone seemed to be speaking, over and around each other. Laughing and touching.

The hole in the ceiling was now shining like the sun, and the windows showed different exterior views that were not yet familiar. One was of a meadow by a lake. The other looked like a Quidditch pitch. Yet another showed the beginnings of a forest.

It was all overwhelming. The five boys spotted and joined the First Year girls, who were hovering closer to the edge of the room. They were already in the middle of a conversation. Something about who the prettiest upper year girl was in the room. Draco wasn’t paying attention.

Professor Sprouts came through the Common room door before too long and cleared her throat so everyone would stop speaking. “Good Morning! I am so happy everyone could be punctual! I just wanted to address some things with the youngest among us before we go off to breakfast.

"In the Hufflepuff house, we respect loyalty, fair-play, friendliness, and hard work!" Professor Sprout ticked off the traits with her fingers. Well, Draco considered. Two traits out of four wasn't too bad. And he could work on friendliness. For Neville's sake.

She clasped her hands in front of herself to pace sedately and continued, “However, it is possible you will get some flack about being a 'puff. The other Houses think that just because we are nice means that they can take advantage. That we can’t be brave, or smart, or ambitious. Well, that's not true! We can be loyal and brave! We can be fair and ambitious! We can be hard-working and smart! And we can be friendly through it all!”

She tossed a finger up and shook it. "This means, if you see someone, Hufflepuff or not, being bullied, I want you to act upon it! In any way you feel necessary! We ‘puffs do not start fights! But we will finish them!" She brought the finger down into a fist like she was crushing something.

An upper-year began cackling. Then more people. Multiple people began shouting. “Good one, Tonks!” “You really had us up until the end there!” “That impersonation was sick!” “You didn’t even trip once!”

Professor Sprout gave a honking laugh and bent over herself, body morphing and changing. At the end, there was an upper-year girl with a flaming pink pixie cut, sharp eyebrows, and a distinctive nose in too-big professor's robes. She was still laughing so hard that when she went to step down into the conversation pit, she tripped on the robes and would have taken a header if it hadn't been for some other students that kept her upright.

"Well," The real Professor Sprout stepped forward from an unseen doorway that led to her sleeping quarters. "I had wondered where that pair of robes had gotten to. Please return them by end-of-day, Miss Tonks. And don't worry about a cleaning charm, dear."

She turned to the rest of the room and folded her hands in front of herself almost identically to how Tonks had portrayed her. “Miss Tonks there was correct about everything up until the fighting. I do not want to find out that my Hufflepuffs were in any fights, beginning them or ending them. In this House, we strive to find peaceful resolutions to problems big and small. If there is any situation you feel is not being handled well, you can always go to an upper year. Anyone in this House will do their best to help, even if it’s just to bring you to someone that would be more helpful.

"Now, First Years, I would like to introduce you to two very important Third years." Two students stood up from the knotwork of students around them. There were gentle hoots and cheers. The boy and girl laughed and blushed as they made their way to Professor Sprout. She took their shoulders and turned them to face the First years more fully. "This is Cedric Diggory and Emma Vane. Consider them your mentors for this year. They aren't prefects yet, but they will be helping you every step of the way this year. From finding classes to understanding rules, these two are who you should go to."

Draco recognized the boy, Diggory. He was the one that had stood and cheered for Harry as well as the one that had lead him to his seat. The boy was tall for a Third year, with pale and spotty skin and a hard jaw that was offset with a small, pleased grin and soft eyes. Father would have scoffed at him. The girl, Vane, was much shorter and darker skinned-- Indian, perhaps-- with dark hair. But her eyes were blue, which made a stunning contrast.

Both students waved at the First Years, happy and excited. Beside him, Harry barely raised his hand and sheepishly waved back.

"Now," Professor Sprout continued. "I will be monitoring all of you these first few weeks to make sure you're settling in nicely. During lunch, Miss Haywood will be passing out your schedules. On each of them, you will see a note from me about a personal meeting later in the week. As your head of House, it is my responsibility to ensure that you are happy and healthy. Because the best way for young minds to grow is through… happiness and healthiness!" All of the upper years chorused with her for the last three words before bursting into another round of laughs.

Professor Sprout blinked, then gave a smile. “Well, yes. Quite right. Dismissed, everyone. Have a hearty meal for me. I’m off to the greenhouse if anyone needs me.”

Everyone began trickling out of the Common Room. Diggory and Vane fought against the tide to make their way towards the First Years. Vane gave the boys a last wave before splitting from Diggory and heading straight to the girls.

“Hello!” Diggory cheered as he got close enough to talk. “I remember all your names from the feast and I look forward to getting to know you better! Let’s go down and get our seats. We can talk more once we’re full.” He hooked his arm around Finch-Fletchley’s neck and without further prompting, steered the First Years out the door.

~*~

The Great Hall had only a smattering of the other Houses while the Hufflepuff's table was full in comparison. It was full of chatting and laughter already when they arrived. Diggory led them to a partially- cleared area a third of the way down and politely asked some upper years to move when he realized there wasn't quite enough space. They didn't even hesitate to do so.

One was that pink-haired girl, Tonks. She cooed over Harry’s bedhead and Neville’s sweater before scooting down, nearly spilling some pumpkin juice onto her plate in the process. It was actually Harry’s quick reflexes that saved it.

After all the first year boys were seated and had plates of food, Diggory began talking. "Just to start off. Everyone calls me Cedric, and you can too. Don't bother with any formal address. No one really uses it in Hufflepuff. I'm an only child and a half-blood. My father works for the Department for Regulation of and Control of Magical Creatures at the Ministry of Magic. My mum is a muggle grade school teacher. My favorite class is Charms and I love playing Quidditch. There were no openings on the team last year, but I'll be trying out this year since there are two. One position for Seeker and one for Chaser. Can I get to know a little more about you all?"

Draco felt like he had been hit with a door. Why would Diggory share all of that at once? To five strangers, no less. As an introduction.

Finch- Fletchley was the first to take up Diggory’s mantle. “Well, my name is Justin Finch-Fletchley. The professor that came to pick me up called me a Muggleborn, which I suppose means that neither of my parents is magical. It was actually a bit of a shock. I mean, I’ve been down for Eton school since I was a baby. But learning that there is such a prestigious school that only a few know about? I couldn’t let my parents pass that up. I had to throw quite a fit to get on the train. My father is a member of the House of Lords. My mother is a High Court judge. I’ve a sibling, but Jessica isn’t a witch. I don’t know much of anything about the Wizarding world yet, but I’m very interested in learning.”

Diggory beamed at him. A disarmingly handsome thing with lots of teeth. But it was completely genuine. And so Macmillan started talking.

“I’m Ernie Macmillan. I’m a pureblood and have a younger sister. She’ll be starting at Hogwarts in a few years. Father is one of the Lords in the Wizengamot since our family is of the Sacred Twenty- Eight. Mother stays at home mostly. She taught me my letters and figures. I think my favorite subject will be astronomy and I enjoy chess and gobstones.” At Finch-Fletchley’s curious look, Ernie explained, “It’s a wizarding game. I brought my set from home. I can show you later.”

Potter and Neville both made pains not to make eye contact with anyone as Macmillan finished, not wanting to share yet. Draco sighed painfully. “Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Pureblood. Only Child. Father is a Lord in the Wizengamot with twenty-three seats. He’s also a Hogwarts Governor. Mother patron’s the arts and St. Mungo’s Hospital. I enjoy Potions. And Quidditch.” He was going to end it there, but Diggory’s painfully sincere nodding made him blurt out one last thing. “And Neville is my best friend.” He pretended he wasn’t blushing and nudged Neville to make him look up.

Neville mumbled through his whole introduction. "I'm Neville Longbottom. I live with my Gran mostly, and I have a cat. Her name is Heather. My favorite subject is Herbology." He stopped with a determined nod and cut his eyes towards Draco as if asking if that was alright.

Draco raised a playful eyebrow as he took a sip of juice. Neville rolled his eyes and knocked Draco’s raised elbow. Gently, so as to not actually spill the juice. The only one left was Potter, who took a large gulp of his own juice, as if it were something that was stronger and would be able to steady his nerves.

He started speaking when he set down his cup. The blood pounding in his ears made him not realize that everyone at the table had gone quiet to hear what he was saying. “So… uh… Everyone seems to know that I am Harry Potter, what with…” He made a waving gesture to the scar hiding under his fringe. “But I didn’t know that was important?” He hunched his shoulders in a shrug. “Not until I got my letter. I didn’t even know I was magic until my letter.” He got smaller as the boys (and the rest of the table out of his sight) stared in shock. “I was raised by my aunt and uncle. They’re muggles. I’ve also got a cousin, Dudley. I don’t know what subject I’ll like. Maybe Defense Against the Dark Arts? And I don’t know what games I like. I never played very many.” His nose wrinkled, though, like he was lying. Draco couldn’t know that he was thinking about the ‘Harry Hunting’ game Dudley had created. “I just… can we forget about the whole,” he made another waving motion towards his scar, “and be friends?”

The table exploded into excited whispers, and it was only then that Potter… Harry… realized he had been overheard by nearly the entire table. He ducked his head and hid his hands in the folds of his robes. Diggory just gave him a small smile. “I think it would be wonderful to be friends.” He looked up at the rest of the boys (the rest of the table). “Don’t you?”

Draco wasn’t sure how much of Harry’s introduction to believe. And he didn’t know if he would even be any good at being a friend to anyone besides Neville. Especially since now everyone at the Hufflepuff table wanted to be friends with the Boy-Who-Lived and that would be annoying. But he figured he would have to become more friendly somehow. And Neville seemed on board with the whole thing.

So Draco was the first to nod. “Yes. Let’s be friends.”

~*~

The rest of Sunday was full of Digory and Vane showing them around the castle. Heather met them at the Great Hall entryway. Neville blushed and stammered but introduced her to the group as they gathered. Vane pet on her the entire time, then all but demanded that Heather should join them on the tour. Neville, and Heather, agreed.

The de-facto tour guides showed the first years things like the ever-changing stairways and how to ask them to change if you needed another pathway. (You had to ask nicely and pet the banister for one. Which wasn't so bad. But for another, you had to musically step up three steps, and then hop down backward. Draco swore he would never use that staircase just on principle.) They didn't know the tricks to all of them, of course, since there were 142, but Vane told them with no little pride that Hufflepuff house was the one that knew the most.

Then, of course, were the doorways and not-doorways that had the same little quirks as the rest of the castle. The third years also introduced them to quite a few friendly paintings and some suits of armor that would offer aid if any of them were to get lost. Draco could understand the paintings. They must enjoy having new faces to visit with. But the suits of armor were a little unsettling. They didn't have eyes to focus on to have a proper conversation, and never responded with voices (being that they didn't have any). Instead, they would point. But that was just as unsettling since most had creaky or squealing arm plates that needed a good oiling.

They had been given their schedules after Harry's introduction and were walked to classrooms in the other that they would be going to at least be familiar with the route. As they walked, the third years would point out different people/ paintings/ decorations on the way and give some stories. They talked about the ghosts, and how to interact with them congenially. And about Argus Filch, the caretaker, and his cat Mrs. Norris.

Apparently, Filch and Mrs. Norris worked as a pair, finding rule-breaking students and bringing them to the closest professor for punishments. If Vane was to be believed, then Filch was the kind of person that thought Corporal Punishment was the best punishment. She told stories about how he wanted to chain students to the walls outside of the Great Hall to embarrass them in front of their peers. Although Draco thought that punishment would be the most effective, he still did not want it to happen to him. So he, for one, was glad that Filch didn't have the authority to make punishments. Heather had given what almost sounded like a snort at the description of Mrs. Norris being a snitch.

The first classroom they were taken to wasn't a classroom at all. It was outside, through a small, hidden backdoor that led through the kitchen's garden. The garden was being tended to by the house elves. They were quick to beam at the Hufflepuff knot of students, greeting Diggory and Vane by name. Vane even gave one, an elf named Tripsy, a high five while Diggory explained the concept of house elves to the muggle-borns. Jones asked him if House Elves were the same as slaves, and Draco couldn't stop his scoff. Muggle-borns. Everyone knew House Elves had contracts. They were indentured more than anything else.

They took a short walk across a field before they reached the Greenhouses. That was where they would be having their first Herbology class with Professor Sprout on Monday. Draco could almost feel Neville vibrating with excitement as he looked around when they stepped inside for a quick tour. Sure enough, there was a row of tables and benches near the center of one of the massive greenhouses. The third years told them in no uncertain terms that the other Greenhouses were off-limits. That they might have dangerous species in them that are for the upper-years to handle.

Then they were taken back through the kitchen garden door (a shortcut; they were informed this time), up three flights of stairs (one of which had a vanishing step that required each step to be counted, and then that specific one jumped), and down two hallways. Diggory assured some of the more nervous first years that they would be guided to their classrooms for a whole two weeks.

This classroom was for Charms with Professor Flitwick. He was a small statured man that was the Head of Ravenclaw as well as the voluntary choir club. He enjoyed giving out points more than taking them away, but he would if you were disruptive in his classroom or if he found out you were bullying. He was a good professor to go to report bullying, as well. Not that the other professors wouldn’t listen, but Professor Flitwick, along with Professor Sprout and Professor Burbage (the Muggle-studies professor), would go above and beyond to do something about it. Unlike Snape, Vane had muttered. But before Draco could come to his godfather’s defense, Diggory jabbed a sharp elbow in her side.

The next classroom was relatively close. It was only down one hidden hallway (covered by tapestries at each entrance) and down a flight of stairs. And these stairs didn't even move. In the nearly-empty classroom (a cat was slumbering by an open window on the Professor's desk. Heather greeted it by booping noses while she remained on the ground. The unnamed cat just blinked and shook it's tail lazily). The upper years, with a sly glance, explained that Professor McGonagall was the Transfiguration teacher and she was strict. She was the Head of Gryffindor as well as the Deputy Headmistress, so she was the most likely to assign punishments. Diggory tried hiding a laugh when Vane explained that. But then he revealed he thought Professor McGonagall only assigned the most punishments because her Gryffindors were the ones that broke the most rules. That made all of the first years laugh. Draco must have been imagining it, but he had thought the unnamed cat might have laughed as well.

Then they backtracked to the Great Hall. Because lunch would be after Professor McGonagall's class. From there, it was to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. The doorway was locked. That made the upper years frown. Most Professors didn’t lock the classrooms except for Professor Snape. And that was because he was the only one that had dangerous materials. Diggory and Vane couldn’t give much insight for to the DADA professor. He was new that year. As every DADA professor was new each year. Vane joked that the position was jinxed.

Astronomy would be Wednesday nights, at 11pm. Diggory assured the first years that Professor Sinistra wouldn’t get mad if they fell asleep during the first few classes. Vane insisted Astronomy was so interesting that they wouldn’t want to. Draco had to agree. Astronomy was one class he was looking forward to. Especially in regards to how it would correlate with Potions and Arithmancy later on. With a quick look around at the Astronomy tower they were standing in, he could tell he would be one of the few.

Tuesdays and Thursdays would be History of Magic with Professor Binns, the only ghost on staff. His classroom was somewhere in the third or fourth story and when they entered, the ghost was already there. Heather trotted up to him and acted like she would rub herself against him, only for her to pass through, hair on end and sassy for it. Once the first years had their fill of the classroom, they left. Vane informed them that History will be boring, especially since Tuesday/ Thursday classes are two hours long. But if they were good at multitasking it was a great time to catch up on other homework. Diggory doesn't discredit her, but he doesn't speak ill of the professor either.

~*~

The last classroom they are taken to is in the dungeons. Draco realized as they are headed that way, that it will be to the last class. Potions. WIth Uncle Severus. Except perhaps he should be calling him Professor Snape along with all of the other students. And that makes Draco freeze to a stop.

He hadn't really thought about the fact that he had sorted into Hufflepuff all day. Of course, he knew he had. And he was touring with the rest of his Hufflepuff class. In Hufflepuff robes, no less. But he had forgotten, in light of Harry's heartfelt introduction, that his parents and Godfather would most likely disapprove. Draco suddenly wished fervently that Professor Snape won't be in his classroom. He just needed a few more days. A few more days to figure out how he would tell his family that he had chosen Hufflepuff, and the more he learned about his House, the more he was glad that he had.

He would bet on his broom back home that no other House gave the first years tours. That no other House would accompany their first years to classes until they could find their way on their own. That no other House taught their first years the tricks to each staircase that they knew.

Draco's wish went unanswered. When the Hufflepuff tour came up to the Potions classroom, the door was unlocked, which signaled that Professor Snape was inside. Diggory knocked politely but Vane winced like she would have just preferred to walk away. Professor Snape's voice came through the partially-opened door.

"Classes do not begin until Monday, you overzealous and calendar- deficient fool. Begone!"

Diggory looked like he was about to begin laughing. The other students; not so much. Draco grabbed Neville’s hand tightly. Then thought better of it, let go, and clasped both of his together in front of himself instead. He wouldn’t look Neville in the eye, because then Neville would be able to read the sudden terror through his mask. Uncle Severus was probably so disappointed. He had probably already owled Father. And Father would be even now working to disavow Draco as his heir. Why did he think asking to be put into Hufflepuff was acceptable?

“Professor Snape, it’s Cedric Diggory, from Hufflepuff? We’re just giving our new students a tour so they aren’t late for your class on Tuesday. May we come in?”

Draco could hear his godfather sniff derisively before drawling, “If you must, Mr. Diggory. Inform the masses that they mustn't touch anything.”

“Of course, Professor, “ Diggory responded, pushing open the door fully. He waved the group inside.

Professor Snape was at the back of the room, his head in a supply closet, his hands probably busy organizing jars and pottery by the sounds of clicking and clanking. He ignored the group as Diggory began explaining how his classroom was laid out and what would be expected of them. (No touching unless you’ve been explicitly told to do so. No speaking unless spoken to. Professor Snape was strict but only docked points if you were doing something that would get someone hurt. Or if you talked back.)

Professor Snape scoffed and turned around and sneered at Diggory. But Draco knew his godfather's mask enough to realize that it wasn't as harsh as he could be. That this was almost friendly. That was until Professor Snape took notice of the first years and his sneer turned cruel. Draco flinched. He knew his godfather would be angry.

“This must be the famous Mr. Potter.” Professor Snape nearly snarled. That threw Draco for a loop. He looked behind himself. Sure enough, Harry was behind him, posture slumped like he was uncomfortable about the attention. Draco didn’t blame him. “Don’t expect preferential treatment, boy. You won’t be getting it from me.”

Harry hunched a little more into his own body and wouldn't make eye contact. "Yessir."

That response made Professor Snape visibly pause, sneer turned to something less acidic. His eyes scanned the rest of the group, alighting on Draco with something like surprise. Like he had forgotten Draco had sorted into Hufflepuff altogether. But he quickly gained his thoughts.

“I believe you’ve sung my praises enough, Mr. Diggory. I won’t have you expecting preferential treatment either. Dismissed. Leave my room before you touch something.” The group began to leave. “Except you, Mr. Malfoy. I want a private word with you.”

Diggory looked up sharply, perhaps concerned. But Neville pulled him along with everyone else. Draco could hear Macmillan reminding everyone that the professor was his godfather as the door closed back down to a crack behind them. Only Heather remained.

Professor Snape’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “That beast best not jump onto any of my tables.”

"Heather is well-mannered, Professor," Draco told him but softly clicked his fingers to gain her attention. She trotted away from the jar of pickled newt she had been studying and bumped her head against his hand.

The professor rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, leaning against the door jam of the supply closet. “So you’ve informed me. Forgive me for having so little faith. Have I been shunted to the title of Professor so soon?”

Draco pursed his lips in thought, grateful that Heather’s fur hid the shaking of his hand. “I thought that might be the address you would prefer since we are in your classroom. And since…” Draco couldn’t say it. Since Father would probably be disowning him. It would only make since his godfather would as well. He plucked at the Hufflepuff crest on his robes instead, pointing out his failure since he couldn’t voice it.

Professor Snape sighed sharply out of his nose, bringing his hand up to massage his forehead. “Draco, you cannot choose your House.”

Draco looked away and shifted his weight. Professor Snape looked at him sharply. His hand twitched; speak up.

"What if I did?" Draco whispered, still refusing eye contact. "It told me that all my family had been in Slytherin. That I would want to go there too. And I… I said no. And I kept saying no. And then…" He opened his hand. "And then it was yelling Hufflepuff and told me I could be ambitious and loyal. That I didn't really have to choose."

Professor Snape examined him thoroughly as he spoke, then straightened once he had gotten to the end. “Then you still didn’t choose. The Hat always has the final say, no matter what a child asks.” Draco opened his mouth to protest that made it worse! It just meant he was always meant for what everyone else called the weakest House. Father would be even more disappointed than he probably already was.

"This isn't a bad thing, Draco! Yes, I am a little disappointed." Professor Snape snapped sharply. Draco ducked his head to hid how he was about to cry. "But that is only because you'll do well in Potions and I won't be able to give points to my snakes for it. And yes, your father will probably be disappointed." Draco clutched his eyes shut. "But that is only because he would like to see you in his footsteps. However." Uncle Severus strode forward and tapped Draco's chin, signaling that he should raise it. "No matter your Hogwarts House, you are still from House of Malfoy. And as the heir, you are not expected to follow your father's footsteps. You are expected to surpass them."

Draco could finally raise his eyes. He could finally breathe. “I will.” The words came out shakily. “But not today?” The last part was asked.

Uncle Severus snorted. “No, not today. Today, you should send your Mother a letter. I have yet to inform her of your Sorting.” Draco released a relieved breath before Severus continued. “And make friends with your housemates. Did you know that Miss Bones is the niece of the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement? And of course, you remember Mr. Macmillan’s father does business with your own.”

Draco gave a sharp nod. “Justin Finch-Fletchley’s father is a muggle but he’s in the British House of Lords.”

Uncle Severus only gave a small wrinkle of his nose. “You never know whose connections may come in handy. And, of course, there is the Boy-Who-Lived.” The nose wrinkle turned into a sneer. “His title will make him a powerful ally one of these days.”

Draco, more comfortable now, gave a small scoff. “If he even cares to use it. He told us he didn’t even know. He’s lived with muggle relatives. He just wanted to be called Harry.” Draco still didn’t know if he believed him.

Uncle Severus’ eyebrows snapped together in disbelief as well. But he only hummed before he changed the subject. “Well, off with you.”

Draco began to turn but paused. "Uncle Severus?" Severus hummed again.

“I don’t know how to get back to my dorm.” Uncle Severus pinched his nose and sighed. But he swept a look over his shoulder at his classroom before pushing Draco out the door and following.

"The lot will be in the Great Hall, I suspect. Hufflepuff's never miss a meal. And it's about time for my supper as well." Uncle Severus locked up, then turned to walk down the hallway.

“Come along, Mr. Longbottom. No need for you to become lost as well.” He snapped. Sure enough, Neville squeaked and appeared from between two pillars. Heather trotted up to him to give him a rub. He slunk closer to the godfather and godson. Uncle Severus strode down the hall, expecting the two boys to follow. “In the future, it would behoove you to not snoop upon a personal conversation. But considering the severity of your worries and the fact that school has, in fact, yet to begin, I will not remove points for your transgression.”

“Thank you, sir.” Neville panted as he tried to keep up.

Draco just beamed. His Uncle Severus was his favorite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TONKS! Yes, I just went there! Yes, there will be more of her! So, cannon has her graduating spring of 1991. And Harry's year started fall 1991 so they would have just missed each other. But this is a fanfiction and I need older cousin Tonks being a badass Hufflepuff role model to my baby 'puffs. So fight me. 
> 
> Unrelated note: I just have this headcanon that Cedric is so chill he isn’t afraid of Professor Snape. He just hears all of the cool insults the professor throws out and enjoys them, like poetry. Even when they’re directed at him. 
> 
> And if anyone is interested: Class schedule!  
> MWF is 1 hr. TT is 2 hours. Astronomy is 2 hours.  
> MWF- 8am- Herbology  
> MWF-9:30 am- Charms  
> TT-10am- History  
> TT-2pm- Potions  
> MWF- 11:00am- Transfiguration  
> MWF-2:30pm - Defense against the Dark Arts  
> Astronomy Wednesday night at 11-1
> 
> That is all.


	7. The Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Draco fears the worst and stands up for a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really excited about this chapter! I feel like this is where the story starts diverging for real.

Sunday afternoon saw Draco composing a letter for his mother, aware that his father would most likely read it as well. There were many pain-staking letters created, scratched at, scrapped, and begun again on the same page (because after a while he knew that he wouldn’t get the words right the first time). Macmillan and Finch-Fletchley left the peace of the dorm room for the more rambunctious common room. Draco didn’t blame them. He would much rather be there as well.

 

Neville stayed. That was not surprising. He pretended to read his Herbology textbook at his bed while Heather draped herself over him. That his bed happened to be next to the desk Draco was writing on, and that he had already finished his textbook on the train were things that Draco was not supposed to notice. Like the glances Neville would sneak over at his letter when Draco stared into space, seeking the correct verbiage that would keep his parents from disappointment.

 

The surprise was that Harry stayed as well. He was on the top bed of his bunk this time, with all of his textbooks spread out. He fidgeted a lot and cycled through the different books. The repeated shift, shuffle, flip, flip, flip was slowly driving Draco mad. But he figured his quill scratching could be considered just as annoying. That combined with the fact that Harry didn’t ask what he was doing or try to draw either of them into conversation… didn’t allow Draco to relax. But it made him feel better. Marginally.

 

By the end of the day, he had his letter:

 

Dear Mother and Father,

 

I have always tried to live up to your expectations and the expectations of our House. In this regard, I hope you can agree. I do try. I have written this letter multiple times but the language escapes me. I will just write plainly. I was sorted into Hufflepuff House.

 

I will still achieve becoming prefect. I will strive for becoming Head Boy. But there is nothing I can do to change my Hogwarts House. And even though I have only been here for the day, I don’t think I want to. If you are disappointed, I suppose you can be

disappointed in that.

 

Neville is here with me, which makes writing this letter to you (and your inevitable disappointment in me) more bearable. I have housemates in Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, and Ernie Macmillan. And Harry Potter. Although, I have my suspicions that you have probably already heard; everyone must know by now.  I have other housemates, of course, but the others in my year are half-bloods and muggle-borns. I know you have no desire to read of them.

 

This House is strange in that the Head of House assigns a Third Year member to escort us through our first two weeks. Our escort’s name is Cedric Diggory. He is a half-blood and his father is a member of the Department for Regulation of and Control of Magical Creatures. Perhaps you have worked with him before, Father? Diggory seems competent enough; he has already given us a tour of the classrooms we will be using and gave us descriptions of the workload and professors that I found most helpful. One would think this mentoring would be universal in such a large and prestigious school. The fact that Hufflepuff House is the only one implementing it makes me proud.

 

I understand that Hufflepuffs are normally portrayed as bumbling fools, and while I have seen some, I can attest that most are just overly helpful. And although this does not further their position immediately, I can see where becoming the helping hand allows for a certain respect and distinction among one’s classmates. So I will not be a snake. I will not appear to be overly ambitious. But as a badger, I can make long-lasting connections that will increase my standing. Especial with Neville and Harry by my side.

 

Uncle Severus pacified me earlier today. He says you will be disappointed in me, but not angry at me. I hope this is the case, and that both of you will embrace me warmly during the winter holidays. If you feel that it would not be possible, please let me know so that I have time to make other plans.

 

Tentatively and Sincerely Yours,

 

Draco.

 

Once it had been completed and carefully blotted dry, Draco sealed it with plain wax, all too aware that his parents might disapprove of him using the Malfoy seal any longer. Neville pretended he wasn’t hurt that Draco hadn’t allowed him to read it. But Draco knew better. And he also knew that Neville would be hurt more if he were to read it. He already thought he had something to do with Draco being sorted into Hufflepuff.

 

Once Draco had that thought, he realized he hadn’t found the time to tell Neville otherwise. He just needed to get Harry away long enough to confide in his only friend.

 

“Potter, were you not the one saying just this morning that you wanted to make friends?” Draco directed his question to the untamed mop of Harry’s hair. It was all he could see of the top bunk from his seated position.  

 

Harry’s head popped up and his face came into view as he wiggled closer to the edge. He looked sheepish. “Yes?”

 

Draco rolled his eyes. “Then why aren’t you out there trying to make them?” He waved a hand towards the door. His and Neville’s desk was close enough to the door, and their dorms were closest to the common room, so he could hear muffled laughter and the waves of multiple conversations now that he wasn’t so focused on his previous task.

 

Harry shrugged in response and muttered something.

 

“What was that?”

 

“No one invited me,” Harry spoke up just enough to be heard in the quiet of the dorm room.

 

Draco scoffed after a moment. “You don’t need inviting into your own Common Room. And in case you’ve forgotten, this is pretty much the house of friendships. Anyone out there would want to be your friend.” He waved again to the door.

 

“But you don’t,” Harry muttered to himself, like an epiphany. His face reddened and he started making his way down the ladder. “You could just tell me you didn’t want me here! That you wanted me to leave!”

 

During Harry’s descent on the ladder, while his back was turned, Draco threw an alarmed look towards Neville. What should they do? Heather moved quickly, winding her way around the fleeing boy’s legs. And Neville took that as his cue to stand up from his bed and gently intercepted Harry before he could make it out the door. “Draco didn’t mean it like that. He really does want to be your friend. I do too.” He flapped his hand to get Draco talking.

 

“Yes!” Draco blurted. Even though he wasn’t so sure. He didn’t know if he would make a good friend for anyone except Neville, despite being sorted in Hufflepuff. And thinking about the sorting had him blurting out again. “I’m just awful at making friends! I wasn’t supposed to be in Hufflepuff!”

 

Harry turned to him curiously. Draco wanted to smack himself. But he continued in a rush, mainly because now that he had said something, it felt good to get it off his chest. “The Sorting Hat would have put me in Slytherin. I should have gone there. It’s what Mother and Father wanted. My whole family is Slytherin. But I asked for Hufflepuff because Neville got sorted into Hufflepuff. And I wanted to keep him. Because he’s the only friend I’ve ever had and I don’t think I can make another!”

 

Harry blinked at him, startled behind his large round glasses. “Was that a secret? Did you just tell me a secret?”

 

Draco nodded hesitantly. “Please don’t tell anyone. Sortings have never been redone. And I don’t want to be re-sorted anyways. I like it here.”

 

Neville was standing behind Harry, still gobsmacked by Draco’s outburst. Draco rarely did outbursts. But Harry began to smile. “You’re only supposed to tell secrets to friends.” He looked up to Draco, then back at Neville. “So doesn’t this mean we’ve just become real friends?”

 

Neville beamed. “Yeah. We’re friends. And now we tell Draco how ridiculous he is being for being so nervous.”

 

“I sorted myself into Hufflepuff.” Draco reiterated, in case Neville hadn’t understood the severity of his secret the first time. “I asked the hat, and the hat sorted me into Hufflepuff. So that means it’s not your fault. I chose this. So if my parents hate me…” Neville looked like he was going to interrupt so Draco raised his voice. “So if my parents hate me, it's because I asked for this. I wanted to be a Hufflepuff. Okay?”  

 

Neville chewed on his lips for a while before answering. “Okay. But if that’s the case, then I asked to be sorted into Hufflepuff, too. It gave me the choice of Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. And I knew that Slytherins don’t really get to be friends with Gryffindors. So I chose Hufflepuff.”   


When Draco looked at him in surprise, Neville just shrugged. “I’ve told you. Gran is used to being disappointed in me. It’s not like this would be anything new.”

 

After hearing this, Harry wrinkled his nose. “My relatives are disappointed in my existing in the first place. So I just wanted to be somewhere I could make friends. The hat thought about putting me in Slytherin and Gryffindor. But you two, remember at the robe shop? You told me Hufflepuff is about kindness and friends. So I sorta fought the hat for it. And it let me.” He extended his hands as if to say ‘and here we are’; as if Draco and Neville’s world view hadn’t changed when being told the Boy-Who-Lived had terrible relatives. Both boys didn’t know how to handle the situation. And Draco personally thought perhaps Harry was exaggerating. Who wouldn’t want to be related to Harry Potter?

 

Besides, before they could say anything, Harry continued. “Do you really think your parents will hate you? Neville told me this morning that they’re very kind.”

 

Draco pinched together his lips. “I honestly don’t know. We’re pureblood, you see? That means it is very important to follow tradition. And tradition means Slytherin for me.”

 

“And Gryffindor for me.” Neville chimed in. “It’s not that they find other Houses inferior.” Draco scoffed. “Okay, it's not that they just think the other Houses are inferior. It’s also that we’re breaking tradition. But I don’t think that they will hate us for it. A little disappointment maybe. But… did you notice how the hat didn’t take long to sort some people?”

 

Harry and Draco nodded. “What if we were the only ones that heard the hat trying to decide in the first place? We took the longest, didn’t we?”

 

Harry nodded again. Draco didn’t look convinced. But Neville continued on. “Our family probably doesn’t even know that choosing is an option. If that’s the case, then no one besides us will know that we choose. So, your parents can’t be angry at you. They’ll think it wasn’t your choice to make.”

 

Draco groaned. “That might make it worse! Because then they might think that I shouldn’t be their son in the first place!” He tossed himself down onto Neville’s bed and covered his eyes with his arm dramatically.

 

Neville rolled his eyes and Harry giggled a little. Neville spoke sternly, “Draco Lucius Malfoy, your parent’s love you. And that’s that.”

 

Before more could be said, the other two boys came back to the dorm room. Curfew was early so that everyone could get enough rest. Before Harry climbed back up into the top bunk to gather his books, he mimed zipping his lips. It made both Neville and Draco smile.  

 

~*~

 

Monday morning had dawned bright with Harry being the only one ready when Diggory knocked on the door for a wake- up call. Then it was all cleaning and dressing until they made it down to breakfast with full book bags and queasy stomachs.

 

Down at the Great Hall was when Draco noticed the staring. His first thought was that everyone had realized the shame he had brought upon his family. Then he started hearing whispers and realized it was all about The-Boy-Who-Lived being sorted into Hufflepuff. Instead of leaving him to fend for himself though, the entire Hufflepuff house closed ranks. The first years were surrounded by second years and third years during breakfast and in the halls. No one could stare at Harry anymore. When they were being guided by Diggory and Vane, Harry made sure he was tucked up close behind them; his smaller frame allowing him to hide pretty successfully.

 

Draco could tell that the upper years adored Harry. He was shy and well-mannered, so he made a good first impression despite his horrible hair and tattered clothes under his robes. He made friends in Bones and Abbott once they stopped swooning over him. Not so much in Macmillan or Finch-Fletchley. Of course, he seemed to enjoy Diggory’s company, too. But everyone enjoyed Diggory’s company. He was Diggory.

 

The classes went much like the First Years were told. Neville enjoyed Herbology with the Ravenclaws immensely. Draco not so much just because he then had to go around all day with dirt under his fingernails. Professor Sprout was just as cheerful in class as she was in the common room. And she didn’t play favorites, which was unfortunate but expected.

 

Professor Flitwick was as small as Vane had described. He was also much more enthusiastic than Draco had imagined. The professor had even exclaimed over how excited he was to have the Harry Potter in his class! Harry had shrunk in on himself, of course, and that seemed to quiet the Professor back down. Draco enjoyed the charms, and he enjoyed actually getting to use his wand. He did not enjoy the handwritten assignments over the Reparo charm. Although that Granger girl from Gryffindor, their classmates for the period, wouldn’t stop gushing about how she was planning on structuring hers.

 

As he had expected, Draco used his History lesson with the Slytherins to write the Charms essay while he kept half an ear on Professor Binns. But the Professor wasn’t droning on about anything that Draco’s Father hadn’t taught him. At least, not yet. Draco noticed some Slytherins shooting him questing looks. They would be the ones to know most that he should have been among them. But he pretended those looks were for Harry instead. He almost had himself convinced.  

 

Unexpectedly, Defense Against the Dark Arts with the Gryffindors was… boring. Draco could easily see that the upcoming year would mostly be theory. And whatever spells they would be learning would all be defensive. Not that defensive spells weren’t necessary or important. But sometimes a defensive spell wouldn’t be enough. Draco thought perhaps Harry agreed with him; Harry spent the entire class looking like he was about to beat his head through the desk. That, and it smelled so strongly of garlic they could smell it long after they left.  

 

The closest to shock over a class he experienced was when Professor McGonagall transfigured from a cat that had been lounging on her desk. The same cat that had booped noses with Heather, no less! After that revelation, it was difficult to focus on her speech.

 

Astronomy was relaxing and stressful at the same time. Draco enjoyed the stars, and so he enjoyed learning them. Especially since he knew most of the constellations already. His mother had taught him. But Astronomy came so late at night that he would prefer to be sleeping. And it only reminded him that although he had sent his letter Monday morning, it was already Wednesday without a return letter. Perhaps he would never receive another letter from them again. Perhaps his parents would just cut him off quickly and quietly like he never existed in the first place.  

 

~*~

 

The letter arrived on Thursday morning. Grimblot came swooping down to deliver it during breakfast. Some cooed at his size while others remark on his color. Like he could understand, Grimblot preened while he gently placed the letter beside Draco’s plate. WIthout prompting, while Draco was still staring wide-eyed at the letter, Grimblot bent over Draco’s water glass and took his fill. Draco picked up the letter and gave him a quick pet before he tucked the letter away. He could not open it here. It could potentially reduce him to tears, and he refused to be seen that way. However, he couldn’t wait until after classes either.

 

So he turned to Diggory. “Can you direct Harry, Neville and I somewhere I can read my letter in private before classes begin?”

 

Diggory looked from Draco to the letter Draco had tucked away and back again. Without drawing the attention of the others, he asked, “That’s from your mother, right?” It seemed like an innocent question, but Draco had the sudden realization that Diggory knew what being sorted into Hufflepuff meant for the Malfoy family.

 

Draco gave a sharp nod, and left it at that. Diggory bent around someone on his other side, to get to Vane. They whispered among themselves, and after Vane nodded, Diggory turned back around to Draco. “You three can follow me. Emma will walk everyone to class.”

 

Cedric (now Cedric in Draco’s head since he was doing something so kind) stood and motioned them to follow. The three first years did so. Cedric led them to the Library, seemingly empty at this hour except for Madam Pince. Four stacks down, and a turn right then left at crossroads, there was a small circle of plush yellow chairs. Cedric waved them on, then began his own adventure through the closest stack, giving them the illusion of privacy.

 

The other two boys watched Draco as he took the letter out of his robe and carefully opened the Malfoy seal with shaking fingers. But before he could begin reading it, he wordlessly shoved it into Neville’s hands instead. Neville began reading the flowing script of Lady Malfoy out loud.

 

“My Darling Draco,

 

I must first start this letter by saying we love you. Both of us. And no matter your Hogwarts house, you still belong to the House of Malfoy. These two facts should never begin to waver in your mind. Although I can understand why you might have doubted. I won’t lie; your Father is having a hard time adjusting to the news. But he will. If only because I will make it so.

 

Let me tell you a small secret I had harbored: one of my deepest hopes was that you would not be separated from Neville. You two will need each other in the upcoming years. (And won’t you give him my eternal love as well? If he isn’t the one reading this, of course.) I knew this hope of mine would either drive Neville into a House he would never be comfortable in, or you out of Slytherin. I thought this to be a useless hope, but now I cannot be more happy for the both of you. Or more proud.

 

Another hope of mine is that you have been enjoying your classes. (A little birdy told me that your first Broom lesson will begin next week instead of later in the year like we first predicted, so you have that to look forward to.) Do well in school and I have no doubt that you will become a Prefect. Or Head Boy. You have never performed less than your best when it came to your schooling in the past. Give Neville my love. And my praise. You both will do so well in Hufflepuff, I am sure of it.

 

Lovingly, your Mother,

 

Narcissa Malfoy,

Lady of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Malfoy

 

P.S. Draco dear, I hesitated in writing this. However, you are old enough to know. And old enough to make your own choices in regards to this knowledge. I have a sister, estranged now, with a daughter (your only cousin) in Hogwarts. She would be in Sixth or Seventh Year by now. Last I heard, she was a Hufflepuff as well. Her name is Nymphadora Tonks. Andromeda, my sister, married a Muggle-born. And for that, she was cast out from the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. I must confess, I miss her dearly. I have often wished that I would swallow my fears and reach out to her once again. Perhaps, if my son makes the plunge to acquaint himself with a stranger, I can work up my courage to speak with my sister once more. However, the choice is yours entirely.”

 

Draco was shaking so hard by the end of his mother’s letter that he made himself sit down in one of the armchairs. He was so by the relief coursing through him that he wasn’t concentrating on the postscript.

 

Harry, on the other hand, seized upon it. “Do you imagine your cousin is that Tonks girl? You know, the Seventh Year that transformed into Professor Sprout on Monday?”

 

Neville shrugged. “Maybe. We could ask Cedric. He would know her full name.” He turned to Draco, asking without words.

 

Draco nodded. “I think I would like that. Just… maybe not right now?”

 

Harry and Neville both looked sympathetic. But Neville was the one to say, “Yeah. We’ve got to go to class anyways.”

 

Harry pumped his hand up sarcastically. “Yay! History!”

 

The noise drew Cedric back to the armchairs. He looked around, and after catching their eyes, gave an easy smile. “All right, then. Come along. Professor Binns probably wouldn’t even notice, but it’s never a good idea to be late.”

 

~*~

 

Draco walked into his second Potions class later that day with something like dread. The first class on Tuesday that they had shared with the Slytherins had not gone as well as Draco would have hoped. Especially considering Professor Snape was his godfather. Mainly because he seemed to have it out for Harry from the very beginning.

 

The professor’s first class had started off like most of the others: by taking roll and a speech that Draco thought had been inspired. “You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe that this is magic.” He had sneered. “I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. . . I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death-- if only you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.”

 

There had been a moment of silence where some students looked on with concern (Neville and Finch-Fletchley) and others with excitement (Draco felt he must be one with how much his cheeks hurt from keeping his grin small. Harry was another.)

 

Suddenly, the professor had barked out, “Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

 

Harry looked stricken, and several of the Slytherin’s hands shot into the air. Harry answered, “Uh, a sleeping potion, sir. I’m sorry that I can’t remember the name.”

 

Professor Snape tisked and shook his head. “A shame fame doesn’t help with memory. One point from Hufflepuff.” The comment and punishment made Harry’s cheeks bloom with a hot embarrassing blush. “Let’s try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

 

Draco had raised his hand politely. Since he was sitting just in front and to the side of Harry, he knew his godfather could see him. But the professor didn’t call upon him; the man’s eyes stayed upon the reddening boy instead.

 

“In the stomach of a goat, sir?” Harry had answered meekly.

 

“Are you asking me or are you telling me?” Professor Snape had asked derisively.

 

“Telling you, sir.” Harry had sounded surer.

 

The professor sniffed. “What a lucky presumption. One more. What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?” A few members of the class raised their hands. Susan Bones, a few of the Slytherin’s, and Draco. Harry did not. Still, the professor called on, “Potter!”

 

Harry hunched in on himself and Draco felt truly angry at his godfather for the first time in his life. He lowered his hand and with a warning ‘smack’, placed it flat on his desk. His eyes were boring into the man’s, who was still ignoring him.

 

Harry, voice quaking, had spoken. “I don’t know, sir. I’m sorry.”

 

Professor Snape had sighed as if largely disappointed. Draco, however, could see the glee under his mask. “One would think you would open the book before stepping into the classroom. Or do you believe yourself above studying? Let’s take away another point.”

 

At that, Draco had stood, both palms still flat upon the table. He had stared his godfather straight in the eyes and had made a choice. “Professor Snape, far be it from me to question your teaching method. But is knowing about herbs located in the back of the book necessary information for the first day of class? If all we needed to be learning was from the book, then why are we in class at all?”

 

His godfather looked, for only a second, as if he had been struck. Then Hannah gave a short and uncomfortable, uncontrollable giggle. That prompted Professor Snape to stride straight towards Draco and stand, looming, over him. Draco wanted to be repentant, he truly did. He had never spoken out of turn towards an adult before. But he had never seen his godfather nearly reduce one of his friends to tears before, either.

 

“Five points from Hufflepuff for your cheek, Mr. Malfoy. And you will remain seated after class. I will be having words with you.” The had man hissed.

 

“Yes, professor.” Draco had enunciated clearly. His palms would have been shaking if not for them pressing hard, flat upon the table. He sat back down as smoothly as he could.

 

The professor gave a glare to the entire class as if waiting for another fool to question him. And then he snapped. “Open your notebooks! The potion Mr. Potter here was unable to name is a powerful sleeping potion called the Drought of the Living Dead. A bezoar is, indeed, found in the stomach of a goat. And monkshood and wolfsbane are one in the same, called differently depending on the region in which it is found.”

 

Draco had recorded the lesson numbly and remained seated even after everyone had left. It made something like satisfaction bloom when Neville and Harry had been the last to leave, worried and nervous in turn. It was only after the door had magically shut behind them that his godfather had walked to loom once more above his desk and spoke.

 

“You will never speak back to me in that tone again. Are we understood?”

 

Draco had his hands placed in his lap, and they fisted convulsively around the loose fabric of his robe. It took all of his willpower to look up into his godfather’s eyes. “Yes..” He started. Then, “No. I don’t understand. I don’t understand why would you punish Harry for not knowing an answer on the first day of class. And I don’t understand why you would collectively punish his entire House. The House I belong in, might I add! I don’t expect you to play favoritism. You’re a man of stronger convictions than that. But I don’t understand why you hold such… such hatred for a boy you don’t even know!”

 

Before the professor could argue or dole out more punishment, Draco continued. “Harry isn’t a bad person! He tries really hard in his classes and he does nothing but read all of our textbooks after hours. He doesn’t like all of this attention people keep showing him and flinches when people look at him for too long! And he’s my friend! So, no, I will not speak back to you in class again. It was the wrong thing to do. But I also won’t let you do this. Not to him. Not to anyone.”

 

“Get out.” The professor turned around so sharply his robes had snapped.   
  
Draco took that as the dismissal it was and left. He was so shocked at himself and his godfather’s reaction that he didn’t even pack up his textbook or notes.

 

The majority of the Hufflepuff house had been outraged that night when a look at the hourglass and noticed that there was a negative standing despite the few points earned throughout the first day. Susan Bones was the one to explain that Harry had lost two (due to Snape being ‘irrationally angry at him for not knowing the answers on the first day’) and Draco. Because Draco had stood up for him.

 

Draco had expected them all (the upper years especially) to remain angry at him. But instead, most had given small cheers or even moved forward to give Draco a pat. He had stood up for a housemate, after all. They would be daft to be angry about it. The older girl, Tonks, had gotten into arms over their treatment, her hair going red in outrage. Some of her friends had to hold her back, laughing at her antics.

 

~*~

 

That had been on Tuesday, and Draco had not seen his godfather since then except for fleeting looks up at the High Table during meals. So it was with dread in his stomach that he walked with his group to Thursday’s class. Even his mother’s letter, carefully folded into his robe pocket, could not soothe his anxiety. Especially since he still did not have his notebook or textbook.

 

Therefore, it was with small relief that upon entering the classroom, he saw his notebook and textbook laying at the desk he had used on Tuesday. But that relief was short-lived when he realized that the desk he had so eagerly chosen on Tuesday was at the front of the class. But the texts being there at all must mean that his godfather had thawed, at least some. So he marched himself to the front and sat gingerly in his seat.

  
The entire time Draco and his classmates streamed into the room, the professor, still sitting at his own desk, did not acknowledge him. That was fine, Draco tried to convince himself, that might even be preferable after everything that had happened.

 

This class progressed with much less commotion. If only because Professor Snape did not acknowledge the existence of either Draco or Harry. Even when Harry raised his hand, obviously a small bit pleased that he did know the answer to a question that had been asked. Draco was miserable for it. He had been glad when the day had been over and had immediately taken himself to bed, dinner and homework be cursed.

 

He had woken up on Friday to notice that both his Transfiguration and Charms essay had been completed and laid out on the desk. The handwriting was atrocious-- he took the time that morning to rewrite it-- but the script was good. And it followed the half-completed outline he had been working on previously. It didn’t take a genius to know that it was Harry’s way of thanking him.

 

Draco just didn’t understand why Harry felt the need to. It was what friends were for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you guys think! Hagrid and brooms are in the next chapter, so stay tuned!


	9. Brooms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Draco acts rashly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Life, amiright?

On Friday morning, a letter arrived for Harry during breakfast. It was delivered by a gleamingly white snowy owl that brought the rest of the Hufflepuff table to a hush. 

“Blimey, is that yours, Harry?” Finch-Fletchley asked. 

Harry, who was munching on a whole slice of toast in his mouth, the letter in one hand, and petting the bird with the other, nodded energetically. The whole ordeal made Draco internally flinch. And that was before the toast slice broke from Harry’s mouth to the table. Harry looked at it with a sigh of disappointment but after a quick look at Draco, who was fully prepared to spring into action, he didn’t pick it up to continue eating on it. 

Instead, he answered Finch-Fletchley. “Yeah. This is Hedwig. Hagrid gave her to me as a birthday present.” 

“Hagrid?” Abbott asked. 

“Mmh.” Harry confirmed distractedly as he used a butter knife (Draco winced) to cut open his letter. “He’s the one that told me I was a wizard! He took me to get my school things in Diagon Alley since my relatives don’t like magic.” 

He was too busy squinting at the letter to notice the concerned and confused looks all of the first years and Cedric were sporting.  Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, not knowing he was magical until the groundskeeper of the school (not even a professor!) came to collect him. 

“Well, she’s gorgeous, Harry. And responds to you so well. You must have a very good bond.” Cedric was the one to cut through all of the tension. “Hagrid must have some instinctive animal magic, for him to gift you such a good familiar.” 

Draco thought that over for a moment. It was true. Most gifted familiars ended up like Trevor the Toad; they hardly ever made a good connection with the intended witch or wizard. But Hedwig stood on the table gently, preening Harry’s mop of a head as he finished reading the letter. 

“Thanks!” Harry grinned over the letter to Cedric in joy. “She was my very first present. I love her.” Hedwig cooed. And before anyone could internalize the comment, his gaze swung to Draco and Neville. “Hey, do you two mind coming to Hagrid’s hut with me this afternoon? He wants to have tea and talk about classes and things. I want to introduce you.”

Neville nodded. “Sure, we’ve got nothing planned. And I want to meet him. I’ve heard he goes into the forest. I’m just sure he sees some rare flora in there.” 

Cedric coughed pointedly. “Oh, no!” Neville exclaimed. “I would never go in there! I’m too afraid of things like that. But I wouldn’t mind seeing some cuttings or seedlings that have been brought out. If he has any.” 

All three boys looked to Cedric since he would be the one that could tell them no. He gave a small smile. “You know where his hut is, right?”

Neville and Harry nodded. Draco hadn’t been outside on the grounds much, except for the Herbology greenhouses, and those were on the opposite side of the castle grounds. 

“Then I don’t see why not. Just be back in the castle before dark, and in the common room before curfew.”

Harry grinned and penned out a response on the back of Hagrid’s letter. He placed it in front of Hedwig’s beak, and she took it delicately before flying off in a flurry of white wings. 

Harry started standing, and so did everyone else, to head to classes. Once he was up all of the ways, he pushed himself into an awkward hug with Cedric, who looked bemused. “Thank you! We’ll be on time, I promise!” And then he started leading the way to class. Everyone else had to scramble to keep up. 

~*~

Around three o’clock, the three boys and Heather went out the front door and took the winding path to the right instead of the main road. Once they were over a hill, they could immediately see Hagrid’s hut. Which was just as small and… thatchy… as Draco had feared. As if Neville was reading his thoughts, he elbowed Draco in the stomach. Hard. It was a message received. If Harry considered Hagrid a friend, then Draco would not say anything about how Hagrid’s hut was two wind blows from falling down around all of them. 

Harry raced the last dozen yards to the front door and Heather followed. Harry looked down and blinked at her, surprised that she had followed him instead of staying with Neville. But, as the other boys walked up, he knocked. Several booming barks responded. All three boys jumped, Neville not-so-subtly hiding behind Draco. Heather seemed unconcerned, so Harry tried not being concerned either. Even though he had never met a dog that he liked. Then they could hear Hagrid. “Back, Fang! Back!” The door cracked open.  
  
The first distinguishing feature Draco was able to notice was the height. Then the beard. Then the nose. “Harry!” Hagrid boomed. “Glad yer could make it! Come on, come on!” He pulled the door completely open with one hand. The other hand had a firm grip on a demon of a dog’s collar. Hagrid noticed Heather as she slipped inside. He gave a booming laugh. “Smart n’ brave little thing, knowin’ Fang ain’t much more’n bark.”

After that confirmation, Harry walked inside without a second thought. Neville nudged Draco to move forward. He was probably concerned about his familiar. So with a deep breath, Draco moved from where he had frozen on the doorstep.

“Already making friends, ‘Aarry? Good fer yah. Good fer yah. Friends are right impor’ant.” He let go of Fang when the door closed. It made a direct line to Heather. Neville squeaked in concern, but the dog just flopped down on its back in front of her, showing off his belly as if she could pet him. As Draco and the others watched, that was just what she did. She raised a single paw and patted Fang’s belly and chest. 

“Huh.” Hagrid spoke after a moment, but easily put the strange occurrence out of his mind. 

Harry seemed to do so as well, “Hagrid, this is Neville Longbottom. He’s Heather’s owner.” Harry motioned to the cat. “And this is Draco Malfoy. They’re my best friends.” 

Harry’s excitement and insistence made a quick flush overtake Draco’s cheeks. He knew Harry considered them friends. But Harry had a lot of friends now. Something like achievement swelled his chest. Maybe he wasn’t so bad at this making-friends thing. Neville grinned happily beside them. 

Hagrid eyed Draco a moment later, and that made the satisfaction that had been building in his chest dwindle. “Malfoy, eh. Sure you ended up in Slytherin.” The way he said it was reminiscent of how Lady Longbottom spoke of Slytherin. With suspicion and some disdain. 

Harry gave a little frown. “I just don’t understand why so many are suspicious of Slytherin’s. The ones we have in classes aren’t so bad. Maybe a little stuck-up. No offense Draco,” Harry cut his eyes to Draco to confirm the other boy’s feelings weren’t hurt. 

“None taken,” Draco assured. “Especially since I’m Hufflepuff.” He raised his chin a little higher. “But my parents were sorted into Slytherin. And I am proud of them. Cunning and ambition are important. Look what they have done with it! Do you know how much money Mother raises yearly for the hospital? For Hogwarts? That’s important.” 

Hagrid looked surprised but didn’t back down. “You-Know-Who was in Slytherin! “ ‘N most of his Death Eaters, too!” 

“So?” Harry asked. “Yeah, they were bad people. But I am sure there are good Slytherins. Draco’s proof of that. And now the war’s over, right? Voldemort’s dead.” The whole room flinched. Except for Heather. “All of the Death Eater’s are gone. So we shouldn’t be judging people based on what happened or what they could be.” Harry finished his statement with a finalizing nod. 

Hagrid looked mulish. But also thoughtful. “Anyways, I can see now that yer all in Hufflepuff. Good fer yah. Everyone was expecting Gryffindor, what with yer parents.” Harry cut his eyes sharply away. Hagrid didn’t seem to notice. “But Hufflepuff is good enough, eh? Now tell me ‘bout your classes.” 

The boys told him everything they could think of. Neville was happy to finally have someone to gush about Herbology. Draco and Harry complained about how boring History and Defense against the Dark Arts was. They pretended to eat rock cakes that Draco suspected were actual rocks. 

When the topic of Potions came around, Harry and Draco hushed. Harry was grateful for Draco for standing up to his godfather, but he also felt enormously guilty since the professor was now being so cold to Draco. And Draco didn’t really want to talk about it. So an awkward silence hung in the air. Hagrid hauled himself up to refill everyone’s teacups, and Draco’s eyes caught on a newspaper clipping that had been partially covered by his tea. 

**"Gringotts Break-In Latest**

Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown. 

Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day.

"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon”. 

 

“Neville! This was the date we went to go school shopping! We could have been in the bank when it happened!” Draco exclaimed, pushing the clipping into Neville’s hands. 

Neville read it and passed it to Harry. “You probably had to go to the bank as well that day, right Harry? That was the first day we met.” 

Harry read the article and frowned. “What vault was it? Have they said?” 

Draco noticed Hagrid was moving sharply. Suspiciously. He grunted and pushed the teacups back into the boys' hands. “Never you mind that. Nothing impor’ant. Drink up!” All three boys shared glances with each other. Hagrid wasn’t very good at hiding things. But it was clear that he was nervous, so they didn’t continue with that topic. They were guests, after all. 

Still, the easy mood had been ruined. They left not long after, pockets weighed down with the rock cakes they were all too polite to turn down. 

~*~

The weekend was Draco’s check-in with Professor Sprout. After some discrete asking around, he had found that none of the First Years had done their meetings yet. Professor Sprout had scheduled them all so that the first 5 in the alphabet went on Saturday. And the last 5 on Sunday. Abbott, Bones, Justin, Neville, and MacMillan would be going on Saturday. Then Draco had the first slot Sunday morning, followed by Midgen, Perks, Harry, and Tones. 

Saturday, Neville was a ball of tension that Draco and Harry tried to soothe. Draco thought it would be a miracle if Neville could even relax enough to talk to Professor Sprout since his anxiety was so high. He was in her office for a little under an hour, and when he returned he was completely comfortable. He told them that most of the conversation was talking about the lesson plans for the upcoming year. And the plans past that. They had gotten up to the fifth-year curriculum before Professor Sprout told him they were running out of time. 

It didn’t encourage Draco any. He couldn’t rely on Herbology to carry him through an hour of conversation. He could only imagine what kind of questions Professor Sprout would ask. Would she be making sure that the Hat gave her the right people? What if Draco answered a question wrong and she found out he had pestered the Hat into sorting him Hufflepuff? 

Sunday morning, Draco couldn’t make himself eat much before he walked back into the common room and knocked on the door to Professor Sprout’s quarters that was already open. Neville had explained that the first room was a cozy sitting room. He had suspected that her sleeping quarters were through a door past the sitting rooms.  

“Mr. Malfoy? Come in! Come in!” The Professor’s voice called out. 

Draco entered cautiously. Neville hadn’t been wrong. It was a calm and cozy sitting room, fireplace and all. He sat where she motioned, which was a seat very close to her situated at an angle. There was a tea tray on a small table in between them. Draco gave a small sigh of relief. He could do tea. He knew his etiquette. 

Professor Sprout began with small talk as she prepared for two. The calming motions were practiced and slowly put Draco at ease within moments. He should have known better. 

“So, Mr. Malfoy, how have you found your first week? Did you make it to classes without a problem?” 

Draco took a sip. “It has been very encouraging. I found the mentoring system, with the third years?, I’ve found it very helpful. I wrote to Father that I couldn’t believe it wasn’t a Hogwarts-wide custom.” 

“Oh, so you’ve written to your family already? I am sure they miss you dearly. I’ve had the pleasure of meeting your mother once or twice over the years. She talked about you constantly.” 

Draco went a bit pink, embarrassed. He was sure she only talked of him to butter Professor Sprout up for his attendance at Hogwarts. But it was still embarrassing. “Yes, I wrote to them after my Sorting.” He clenched his fingers around the handle of his cup. He probably shouldn’t have continued, but Professor Sprout was nodding understandingly. “I wanted them to hear of it from me first. Since I had thought it… unprecedented.” 

“And have you received a response yet? I know Owls can take some time.” She asked and gave him a gentle excuse as to why his parents hadn’t written if he needed it. 

It made Draco brighten up considerably. He realized that Professor Sprout really did want him in Hufflepuff, or at least she wasn’t going to try kicking him out. And it reminded him that his parents hadn’t disowned him.

“Yes, I have. Mother wrote to me. She was very proud. Surprised, but proud. I’ve been friends with Neville since we were babies. So I think she wanted us to stay together. And she sent Father’s love.” 

“That’s great. And have you made any other friends besides Neville? None of my ‘Puff’s have made any trouble for you?” 

Draco gave Professor Sprout a grin. “I made my first friend. Outside of Neville, anyways. Umm…” he looked at her to gauge how much she might freak out. Probably not much, he decided; Harry was in her House and her classes. “Harry. He’s very nice. And he works really hard.” 

Professor Sprout beamed. Draco figured it was for Harry but was proved wrong. “I had heard you three were getting along splendidly. Some birdies told me that you even stood up for him in Potions class. I am very proud of you for that, even if some House points were lost.” 

“Thanks,” Draco responded quietly. He lowered his cup as well as his eyes. 

Professor Sprout reached out to put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I mean it, Mr. Malfoy. It was very good of you to stand up for what you believed to be right. And it was brave of you to still do so against your own Godfather.” 

Draco looked up suddenly, a question on his lips. Professor Sprout answered before he could spit anything out. 

“Between you and me now, Mr. Malfoy. Professor Snape was the one to tell me of your confrontation. Oh, I had heard the others speak of it, but it was when your Godfather came to me that I knew I was getting the whole story. He wanted me to make sure you were coping. Both with being sorted into Hufflepuff as well as your state of mind after the disagreement.” 

“Oh,” Draco had no idea how to respond to that. He was happy, as well as confused, but mostly happy that his Godfather was checking up on him. Even if it was through a third party. Maybe he hadn’t ruined the relationship as much as he had feared. 

Professor Sprout gave another kind smile. Draco was starting to suspect it was her only smile. “And you’ve had no problems with other students? Or other professors?” 

Draco shook his head. And then he froze. He probably shouldn’t say anything. But. What if? “Professor, this isn’t really about me. But I’m concerned for a friend.” 

“Oh?” Professor Sprout asked. Clearly a little surprised. 

“It’s Harry. He says things. Little things. Like how his owl was his very first birthday present. Ever. And how his relatives don’t like him. How he didn’t even know he was a wizard until Hagrid of all people took him to get school things. He doesn’t seem to know how to play any games! And he told me I was his very first friend.” Draco spilled it all out in a rush. “I… I think?” But he couldn’t bring himself to finish. It seemed like such a foolish thought to have. That perhaps the Boy-Who-Lived had a bad home life. 

Professor Sprout pursed her lips; part surprise, part concentration. “Well, I will be visiting with him later today. Don’t you worry, Mr. Malfoy. I will get to the bottom of it.” And it sounded like a promise. 

~*~

Tuesday morning dawned with the entire group of first years ready in record time. No one had slept well, either out of excitement or nervousness. It would be their first flying lesson in the afternoon. When they meet up with Cedric and Vane in the common room, the Third years gave them all understanding grins. 

“Most of you will do all right,” Vane teased while Cedric gently ribbed her. 

“And the rest of you will do wonderful!” Cedric appeased. “Flying is like nothing else. It’s a rush, really.”  

“Do you play Quidditch?” Draco and MacMillan asked nearly simultaneously.

Cedric rubbed his head sheepishly. “Not for our House team. Not yet.” 

“I do!” Vane cheered. “I made Chaser last year, against this guy!” She poked Cedric in his dimple and cackled good-naturedly.

“By only one point!” Cedric pointed out. “And I’ll be trying out again this year! We’re down a Chaser, Seeker, and Beater since they all graduated last year. I’m a shoo-in!”

The first year boys who had asked nodded knowingly. Everyone else nodded along just so they didn’t look foolish, not knowing what Quidditch was. Except for Neville and Abbott. They just rolled their eyes. Draco saw that. He’d be getting back at Neville later somehow. 

During breakfast, Draco received a Malfoy owl with another letter from his mother and a package of sweet rolls. He passed them out to the rest of the table and pocketed the letter for reading later. 

Neville received an owl package as well. A remembrall; a fist-sized trinket that glowed red if an owner had forgotten something. It was from his Gran, and it made Draco’s teeth grind. 

“She says it’s for getting into Hufflepuff!” Neville laughed it off, shaking it. “I suppose this one might be defective, otherwise it would be glowing right now, right?”

“Or maybe you just haven’t forgotten anything because you don’t forget things.” Draco snapped back, taking the letter from Neville’s other hand to skim the contents quickly. As expected, it was full of passive-aggression and disappointments. He pocketed it before Neville could take it back. Maybe he could get away with throwing it into the common room fire. 

Classes dragged. Of course, History did, but that was normal. But Potions was tortuous. And that was before Harry accidentally put Bulbadox juice instead of Boom Berry juice into the Wiggenweld potion he and Perks were making. Draco hadn’t seen it since Neville was his partner and it was a full-time job to keep their potion on track. However, he and the entire class were made aware when the Professor ripped Harry back off of his seat by his robe with some force. 

“You cretin of a boy!” Professor Snape thundered as Harry regained his footing. “The board clearly states Boom Berry juice! Do you want this curative to turn into an explosion!”

Harry’s face went ashen and his hands were shaking more than a scolding should warrant. “I’m sorry, Professor. I read the board wrong. I swear.” 

The Professor looked back to the blackboard in incredulity. The letters were written by his wand, so the penmanship was large and legible. Belatedly, after one long look at the boy, he let go of Harry’s robe. “Miss Perks! Since you allowed your partner to choose the wrong ingredient, you may clean the cauldron. The effects are inactive until mixed with the Chizpurfle fangs.” The freckled girl pouted but did as she was told. 

“Both of you will receive quarter marks today.” Sally turned around at that to protest, but the Professor just raised one boney hand. “And that only because you got to the last step without mishap.” 

Sally snapped her mouth shut. 

“Thank you, Professor. It won’t happen again.” Harry spoke earnestly. It made the Professor frown more than anything else. 

“The rest of you should also be on the last step. Turn your potion in for grading and begin cleaning your cauldrons.” 

There was a mad rush on the Hufflepuff’s side of the classroom. The flying lessons were immediately after class. But it was between the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, not the Slytherins.

~*~ 

The first years raced out through the back passageway and to the empty field next to the Quidditch pitch as fast as they could. They had all stayed back in solidarity for Perks, who had the most difficult time getting the mixture of Bulbadox and Salamander’s blood out of their cauldron. Apparently, when the two mixed they created a type of nasty-smelling putty. Perks had been pretty irritated at Harry, but after she realized that the whole Hufflepuff class would stay with her, and Harry had apologized for what seemed like a million times, she settled down and allowed MacMillan and Bones to help her scrape it all out. 

It turned out that they were in a hurry for no reason. They actually got to the meeting point sooner than the majority of the Gryffindors. And before Madame Hooch as well. 

When she did arrive, she wasted no time. “Everyone to a broom! Hurry up, now!” 

She continued to guide everyone through the theory and steps. Draco was itching to curl his fingers around his broom. It had only been two weeks, but he had sorely missed flying. He yelled “Up!” with everyone else when Madame Hooch commanded it. He looked over at Harry and noticed that his broom had come to him as easily as Draco’s had come. They both grinned at each other. Draco blamed his excitement for not noticing that Neville was struggling. 

Madame Hooch hadn’t blown her whistle, but Neville, on the other side of Harry, kicked off prematurely when Weasley shouted “now!” in excitement. Then, even as Madame Hooch demanded he come down, the broom kept rising. Everyone could see that Neville was clearly out of control and terrified; only getting higher, nearly 20 feet now. Draco clenched his broom, feeling useless and guilty.

But it was Harry that did something. He pushed off the ground, shooting off in the direction Neville was floating. But before Harry could reach, Neville slipped. Draco watched as if it were happening in slow motion. Harry pushed his own broom to be below the falling Neville about ten feet, trying to catch but also being unable to do so. Instead, he just cushioned the boy. But both boys crashed through the broom and to the ground with sickening “cracks”. Neville gave a painful cry and jerked, but Harry just groaned and laid still.

Madame Hooch rushed over, motioning the other children to stay away while she looked over the two injured boys and tutted. “A broken wrist for you, Mr. Longbottom.” She poked at Harry’s sides. Harry grunted again. “And possible cracked ribs for you. Foolhardy, the both of you. I would expect this kind of recklessness from a Gryffindor. Off to the infirmary with us.”  She began herding the boys up to the front of the castle before looking back. “As for you lot, don’t move!” 

It wasn’t long after that some of the Gryffindor’s began snickering. Weasley was among them. Draco raised his chin. “Anything to share with the class, Weasley?” 

Ron and another Gryffindor boy snickered again but didn’t respond. Draco sniffed but set down his broom and drifted over to where the rest of the Hufflepuff’s were standing. Finch-Fletchley and the other muggleborn, Midgen, were looking decidedly green. 

Draco gnawed on his bottom lip and glanced back up to the castle entrance. He hoped Madame Pomfrey would be able to heal his friends easily. Finnigan, one of the other Gryffindor boys, said something quietly. Weasley responded loud enough for the Hufflepuff’s to hear. 

“Well, yeah. It’s obvious Harry should have been in Gryffindor. Did you see that? He was trying to rescue Longbottom from himself. No wonder. Hufflepuffs, in general, are worthless at everything. But I’ve met Harry, he’s a good bloke. Someone must have tampered with the Hat. Maybe one of the Slytherins that came before him.” 

“Hey!” Megan Jones shouted in outrage and stomped closer to the Gryffindor boys. Draco knew that she had a brother a few years older in Slytherin. She was always one of the first to stand up for the House. “Take that back!”

Weasley startled. Apparently, he hadn’t realized how loud he had gotten. But he didn’t back down. “Which part? The fact that Hufflepuffs are useless? Or that Slytherins are all slimy gits?”

“That’s it!” Megan advanced. Now, she was a tall girl for eleven, with wide shoulders and sharp features that made her look intimidating. Especially when she was striding towards someone like that. Weasley might have been taller, but not by much. Weasley started backing up, but tripped over frizzy-haired Granger, who had sat down in the grass to read one of her books. 

She fussed in outrage as Weasley toppled over her and everyone else laughed. She started smacking him until he rolled over off of her and her book fully, giving a small frown at the damage. 

Weasley wallowed and wiggled on the ground for a while. And then popped up with a remembrall. It must have fallen out of Neville’s pocket.

“Give that back!” Draco snapped, storming up to the group with his hand out. “It doesn’t belong to you!” 

“Last I knew, it didn’t belong to you either, Malfoy!” Weasley shouted back, tossing it to one of his accomplices before Draco could get too close. Draco whirled to face Finnigan, then Thomas; keeping the ball in his sight.

“Yes, but I’m Neville’s friend! And you’re grubby hands are going to break it!” Draco shouted in frustration as Thomas threw it back over his head to Weasley, playing a plebeian game of monkey in the middle. He could feel his face getting hot in mortification as the rest of the class watched.

Weasley palmed the ball, effectively covering it, and put his hands on his hips. “You sure about that? I don’t think a slimy snake that cheated his way into Hufflepuff could be anyone’s friend! I bet you’re the one that broke the Sorting Hat!” 

Draco reeled.  
“Hey!” Susan Bones and Ernie MacMillian shouted at the same time. Susan was the one to continue. “Stop being a jerk, Weasley! Draco belongs in Hufflepuff as much as the rest of us! And return that!” 

Draco turned to watch as the rest of his Hufflepuff classmates made a wall of opposition. All of them glaring at the Gryffindor boys in support.

He turned back to Weasley when he heard him moving. He’d mounted a broom. “Well, since it seems like none of you are poor Longbottom’s friends, I’ll just leave this somewhere where he can find it!” He launched off. 

Draco doesn’t know why he did it. It was a foolish thing to do. But he threw himself over a broom and took off after the redhead. Weasley noticed he was being followed and quickly overtaken, so he panicked and threw the ball hard towards the greenhouses. 

Draco did the only thing he could do; he pressed his broom right past Weasley, racing gravity and relieved that Weasley threw the ball at an arch so he had just a bit more time. 

He caught the remembrall one-handed right before it could hit the glass of a greenhouse, his momentum carrying him in an arch over his stationary hand upside down until he could right himself. He breathed a sigh of relief and looked over at Weasley. But Weasley was still on his broom, racing away back to the rest of the first years. The coward. Draco pocketed the ball safely and went to follow him.

“Mr. Malfoy! You will come down here and unseat yourself immediately!” Professor Sprout shouted up at him from where she had just stepped out of the greenhouse door. She must have seen the entire spectacle from inside. 

Draco lowered himself down and dismounted the broom. His hands were shaking with all of the unexpected adrenaline. From terrified to angry to the exhilarating rush of a good flight back to terrified. 

Professor Sprout bustled up, hands on her hips. “Now, do you mind telling me why you were on a broom unescorted? And where in heavens is Madame Hooch?”

“Madame Hooch had to escort Neville and Harry to the infirmary. Neville lost control of his broom and Harry tried to catch him.” Draco spoke in a rush. Professor Sprout tutted in dismay.

“And so you decided to go on an unescorted fly with Mr. Weasley, was it?” Draco gripped the broom so hard he heard the handle creak ominously. 

“No, Professor. I … I didn’t make a conscious decision. I’m sorry. I… Weasley had Neville’s remembrall. Neville dropped it when he fell. He, Weasley, he wouldn’t give it back and when he flew away with it, I raced after him. I understand we could have gotten hurt, especially on strange brooms. And I understand that you’ll have to punish me. But he was going to break it and Neville just got it in the mail this morning.” 

The purse in Professor Sprout’s lips didn’t leave the entire time. Draco thought of how just that weekend he had been sure she could do nothing but smile. One hand went from her lips to tap fingers against her chin. “How often did you fly at home, Mr. Malfoy?” 

“Very often. My parents had taken the height and speed charms off of my broom last summer.” Draco had actually been quite proud of that. 

“Give me the ball, Mr. Malfoy. I will keep it safe until Mr. Longbottom is with us again.” Draco did as he was told and she continued. “Now, I want you to understand, Mr. Malfoy. You will be punished properly when I think of a fitting punishment. However, you are not the only one to fault.” She gave a flick of her wand, and two beetles flew out and began their way to the castle. “Let’s go find the rest of your classmates. Then we will talk about your future.” She set off for the spot of the field the rest of his classmates stood upon.

Weasley was back there already, off of his broom and suspiciously trying to look innocent. He actually tried to duck behind Megan, who was having none of it. “Professor, it was all Weasley’s fault! He even prompted Neville to jump too soon. That’s really the reason Neville and Harry are hurt. And he was being nasty to us! And to Slytherins! Then he took Neville’s remembrall and flew off with it! We couldn’t tell a teacher because there wasn’t a teacher to tell!” 

Professor Sprout looked to the Gryffindor’s in attendance. “Well, is any of this true?” 

“Yes, Professor, it is!” Granger spoke up from the back of the knot of Gryffindors. The boys groaned. “And he bent my book as well!” 

About the same time as Granger finished bemoaning her book, Professor McGonnagal was marching down the path from the castle, following one of the beetles that Sprout had sent.   

“Ah, Minerva. That was quick.” Sprout remarked.  
  
McGonagall pursed her lips. “I witnessed the whole exchange from my window and was already coming down.” She flicked her hand and pointed a finger up towards a tower window. “Now, what was the whole kick-off about?” 

“Your Mr. Weasley there was saying some harsh words about my ‘Puff’s. Especially since it is his fault that two are in the hospital with Madam Hooch. He tossed this ball here,” Professor Sprout rotated it in her hand to show it off, “a good thirty or forty yards. If it weren’t for some quick flying on Mr. Malfoy’s part here, Mr. Weasley would be facing some property damage. Both the ball and the greenhouse window would have broken. Easily mended, yes, but irresponsible all the same.” 

“Yes. That is rather deserving of punishment,” Professor McGonagall responded, but waived off the matter with her hand. “Mr. Malfoy caught it at forty yards, you said? I was too far away to see the full thing properly.” 

“That’s not the only point, Minerva!” Professor Sprout hissed. “The point is they both deserve punishment.” 

McGonagall’s lips pressed flat once more. “But of course. We should set them both to the dungeon to attend the Potion Master for a week. And perhaps I will give Molly an owl.” She raised her voice and cut her eyes towards Weasley. “I do miss her voice. It’s been all summer since I’ve heard from her last.” Weasley groaned in horror. 

Professor Sprout narrowed her eyes. At first, Draco thought it was in suspicion or anger. And he was sure it looked that way from all the way where the others were standing. But he was closest to both Professors, and Professor Sprout was definitely trying not to smile. “Very well. One week. However, there are still some things we should discuss. . . “Ah, here’s Mrs. Khanna now. She can watch the others until Madame Hooch comes back.” Sprout waved the seventh year Hufflepuff prefect to the group as her second beetle faded away. 

With a few more words, she and Professor McGonagall began walking away. “Mr. Malfoy, you may set your broom down and follow us!” Sprout called behind herself. Draco rushed to obey, trotting to step up behind the Professors. He was more confused than terrified at this point. Surely Professor Sprout knew doing chores for his godfather for a week wasn’t a horrible punishment. Even if they had yet to completely smooth over their previous disagreement. 

“Yes, yes. I’ve no problem bending the rules for this. Especially if it means Slytherin won’t win the Cup again this year. Severus and Aurora are becoming unbearably smug.” Professor McGonagall muttered to Professor Sprout before coming to a stop right at the castle door. “Wait a moment. Which way am I going? What class would your captain be in?”  

“Potions.” Sprout answered immediately.   
“Really?” McGonagall asked, then gave a wry grin. “Wonderful.”   
The older women cackled quite impressively and continued chatting while Draco just tried to keep up with their long strides. They were in the dungeon in no time, although it was a different room from the one that the first years used. 

McGonagall knocked. When Snape snapped, “enter”, she propped open the door. “We will need Miss Lyre for a moment, please, Severus.” The Potions professor sneered before he caught sight of Draco’s small form behind the women. 

“You must be joking!” Snape snapped. 

McGonagall raised a brow. “Not at all, Severus. Miss Lyre, if you please,” she directed the second sentence to a seventh year Hufflepuff that Draco had seen in passing a few times. She was Tonks’ friend. Snape waved his hand, indicating her release. Lyre popped up out of her desk quickly and came to the door before shutting it back behind herself. She peered at Draco curiously. 

“Yes, professors?” She asked. 

“Miss Lyre, meet your new Seeker.” Professor Sprout announced. Lyre looked as stunned as Draco felt. 

Professor McGonagall was the one to continue. “We can personally attest to his skills. And of course, you’re welcome to set him against any of the other contestants since I realize you will still need to hold try-outs this week. But I wanted you to meet Mr. Malfoy here so you would know that he is allowed to play despite his age.”

Lyre just nodded her head. “Okay. Well,” she looked to Draco and held out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you properly. I’m Violet, a Chaser and the Captain. Our try-outs are Tuesday of next week.” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Draco took her hand and responded as if he weren’t mentally jumping like toddler after too much sugar. “Draco Malfoy.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry not sorry.  
> I wasn't planning on having Draco as Seeker. But when it happened, all I could do was be like "yas!"


	10. Misunderstandings and Giant Dogs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Draco jumps to conclusions. And it's Harry's turn to tell the story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys should know by now not to believe me when I tell you 2 weeks. -.-
> 
> Also, Harry's POV for most of the story!

The day of Quidditch tryouts only a week after Draco was recruited dawned bright and surprisingly sunny for September. Draco was vibrating with excitement. Neville and Harry shared glances. They weren’t going to get anything except Quidditch out of Draco today. It was probably for the best that it was a Saturday; no classes for Draco to be distracted about. 

Although it was a weekend, everyone seemed to be up around eight. “The Quidditch tryouts,” Cedric declared when he noticed Harry’s confused looks. “First years can’t play, but they can watch. For the Muggle-borns, it's the first time to see the sport up close. So it’s very important to their friends from magical families.” Harry nodded in contemplation. That made sense. 

The daily owls arrived in a flurry of wings. There was a dense knot of owls and it quickly became apparent that there were three working together to lift a package. Harry recognized Hedwig on one side. Grimblott, Draco’s small little owl, was in the middle flapping his arms off. From the strain of Hedwig and the unknown owl at Grimblott’s other side, Harry would wager that the little owl wasn’t helping much. Still, he gave a trill of pleasure as he set the package down before Draco with a solid ‘thump’. 

Draco ripped the note that was pinned from the package and read over it quickly, summarizing as he went. “It’s from Father. Well, the note is from Mother. But the package is from Father. He sends his congratulations. And Mother recommends I open it out on the field today during tryouts.” Draco looked up, color in his cheeks. “One guess as to what it is.”

Harry grinned, “Oh, I don’t know. Awkward shape and all that. Is it an umbrella?”

“A mop?” Neville picked up the game and continued. But Draco was having none of their antics. He just sniffed. 

His pout was short lived as a shrill woman’s voice cut through the breakfast crowd. “Ronald Bilius Weasley!” The screaming was coming from a personified red letter. 

“It’s a Howler!” Draco hissed before riveting himself back to the show. 

Harry could guess who opened it. The youngest Weasley’s face was as red as his hair, and he was attempting to hide under his folded arms. And now that he thought about it, the voice was familiar, even though Harry had never heard her be cross before. It was Mrs. Weasley. 

The Howler continued: “You bring shame upon this family behaving so dreadfully! Not two weeks in and I get a reprimand letter! At first, I thought it was the twins, playing their normal pranks! Not my Ronnikins, I thought! Then I open it just to be shocked! Shocked! My baby Ron, a bully! And to poor sweet Hufflepuff’s too! I have expressed my full displeasure to Deputy Headmistress McGonagall! I also wrote to Percy. He has my full permission to set you straight! I hope you enjoy your two weeks of detention! You deserve them, young man! Picking on Hufflepuffs! Why I have never!” With those last words, the letter blew up in a puff of foul smoke that had most of the Gryffindor table coughing. 

Draco cackled in the resulting silence. Susan and Ernie joined in, then some first years from Slytherin, until most of the Great Hall was laughing, even some Gryffindors. Harry couldn’t see Ron anymore over the flailing limbs of so many people laughing. A part of him empathized; it must not feel very good to be laughed at like this.

However, the letter had been funny. And Harry had heard from Susan and Hannah what Ron had said to his fellow Gryffindors and Draco. Harry had thought, in the train, that Ron would make a wonderful friend. But he wasn’t very keen on the idea of having a friend that thought he should change himself just for others. Or a friend that made fun of those he considered friends. 

Ron came storming down the length of the table; face so red it neared purple. He almost got into Draco’s face until Cedric gently held him back by the shoulder. Cedric said something that Harry couldn’t hear. 

“Yeah Ronnikins,” Draco drawled. “You better head back before you pick on more of us poor Hufflepuffs and get into even more trouble. What have we ever done to you?” He faked big, innocent eyes. Harry didn’t know whether to smile at the act or wince at how Draco was rubbing it in. 

Ron’s eyes cast around; Harry thought he might have been looking for allies. Instead, his eyes lighted upon the package on the table behind Draco. It couldn’t be anything other than a broom, and Ron must have seen that. “I won’t be the one getting in trouble when the Professor’s find out that you’ve gotten a broom!” Ron shouted and raced off, probably to find a prefect or Professor. 

Cedric turned to Draco, “Please tell me you have permission for that?” 

Draco scoffed. “Of course I do. Professor Sprout and Professor McGonnagal saw me fly during practice. They wanted to give me a chance to try out for Seeker.” 

“Oh,” Cedric responded, slightly dejected. 

“Not that I’m sure to get it or anything!” Draco pressed. “It’s just to see. Nothing’s certain. You should definitely still tryout. You’re likely to be better than me.” Harry thought that was probably the most uplifting, Hufflepuff thing Draco had ever said in the short time he’d known him. 

~*~ 

Harry and Neville followed Draco to the pitch along with most of the Hufflepuffs. Violet, the captain, and a couple of her friends were already there with a huge chest on the ground in front of them. Harry recognized the pink-haired girl as Tonks, Draco’s cousin. Draco had yet to reach out to her, which Harry thought odd. But then again, he didn’t want to be anywhere near his cousin, either. Granted, his cousin was Dudley. Harry doubted any cousin could be as bad as Dudley. 

“Listen up!” Violet didn’t have to raise her voice much. Everyone was kind enough to be quiet. “We will show everyone here how to play, but above everything this is a tryout. If you’re just here to watch, please go to the stands!” Harry and Neville gave a quick good luck to Draco and scurried to the stands with the rest of the First Years and quite a few other people. Tonks was one of them to make a bee-line for the stands. 

The exodus left 6 potentials on the field. Cedric (who was being ribbed gently by Emma), Draco, Mildred and Travis (two Second Years), Warren (a Third Year), and Coriander (a Fourth Year). Violet eyed the potentials. “We only have three openings. Seeker, Chaser, and Beater. You will need the skills of the position you are aiming for, and the ability to work well within our team.” 

 Violet’s team nodded agreement. Violet was a Chaser along with Emma. And Arvilla Wolper was a tall and muscularly proportioned Fifth Year that was the remaining Beater. Barracus Rollins was a serious Sixth Year that rounded out the group as the Keeper. 

Violet kept speaking to the potentials, but Harry’s attention was drawn to the girl with pink hair that had claimed the seats in front of them. She was joking along with her friends, long arms dramatically flourishing as she told them a tale about how she nearly had gotten caught the night before by Mrs. Norris. She claimed she just turned herself into Professor Snape and gave her best sneer. As she tells the tale, her head morphs and her voice goes deep. 

“Run along, you flea-bitten sack of organs!” She hissed in a voice so like Professor Snape that Neville shivered.

It made Harry laugh, which brought the attention of the Seventh Year and her friends. Harry was quick to cover his mouth, but the damage was done. “Sorry.” He muttered. “I didn’t mean to overhear.” 

Tonks morphed back and gave Harry a cheeky grin. “No harm done!” She crowed. “Stories are meant to be heard. You guys are Harry and Neville, right? Good to meet you properly.” She reached her hand back for a quick shake. 

“Same,” Harry beamed. Neville nodded. But any more conversation was stopped by the blowing of a whistle. The tryouts were beginning. 

It was quickly apparent that Mildred and Coriander were outmatched by Cedric and Draco in regards to speed and accuracy. And they didn’t have as much power compared to Travis and Warren. They gracefully dropped out when Violet asked. The next set of exercises was to compare Travis and Warren. They were instructed to continuously beat away the Bludger until they couldn’t anymore, to compare stamina. 

Everyone was surprised when Travis came out the winner, since Warren was a year older. But Warren conceded with a laugh and a pat on the back. The crowd cheered, and then turned serious as Draco and Cedric began competing to see who would be getting the Seeker position and who would have the Chaser position. The Hufflepuffs in the stands exclaimed in excitement as the two boys were put through maneuvers, weaving over and under the current chasers and beater as they pelted Bludgers and Quaffle in search of the Snitch. Harry couldn't keep up as much as he would have liked. The balls were blurs of speed and the movements of those in the air was a lot to take in. 

Tonks was one of the first to cheer as she noticed that Draco caught the Snitch; she wrapped her arm around the neck of one of her friends and hollered, “That was brill! We’re definitely going to win this year!” Harry and Neville were quick to pick up the cheering. Draco looked flushed. Probably a combination of exertion and being pleased. 

Harry noticed that Draco immediately turned back to Cedric. They said something that couldn’t be heard. But Cedric patted Draco on the shoulder so he couldn’t be too sore about not getting the Seeker position. Draco threw a blinding grin up in Neville’s and Harry’s direction. 

Neville grinned back and started making his way down the stands like many to congratulate Draco in person. Harry stayed back just so he could watch how the entire Hufflepuff House interacted with each other. He heard a thump of someone sitting next to him. 

He turned to look and was greeted with his own face. It started a giggled out of him. Tonks honked a laugh and turned back to her version of normal. 

“How do you do that?” Harry asked. “I’ve seen you do it loads of times, but it was all wandless.” 

Tonks smirked. “I’m a Metamorphmagus. It means I can transfigure myself; it comes naturally, no wand needed. My mom says that my hair turned blue almost immediately after I was born. I don’t think I’ve been a natural color since. At least, not unless I’m pretending to be someone else.”

Harry grinned. “That’s pretty brill. I grew out my hair really long once after my aunt gave me an awful haircut. But I think it was just accidental magic.”

Tonks laughed, “That’s a pretty smart prank!” Harry gave a small grin, but it dropped quickly after remembering the rest of that story. His aunt hadn’t thought it funny. He’d been forced to stay in his cupboard for a full week.  

He looked back down at the crowd of Hufflepuffs on the field. 

“Malfoy is my cousin, you know.” Tonks said suddenly. 

Harry turned around and looked at her in a bit of shock. It made Tonks laugh again. “Yeah, I know! But I’ve only known since this summer. I suppose my mother wanted to make sure I knew I would be meeting him this year. Our families aren’t on the best terms, though.” She snorted, and Harry could guess that it was due to her own understatement. “So I suppose he doesn’t know of me. I guess that’s fine.” 

“No!” Harry stammered out, at a loss of what he could say. “No! He knows now. His mother sent him a letter when he Sorted into Hufflepuff.” He bit his lip. Was he betraying Draco’s confidence? But what if this helped bring the family back together? “She told him that your mum was disowned from the Blacks. And that she had always been too afraid to reach back out. But that she wanted to. If Draco wanted to know you. . . I think Draco does. But you’re so much older. I’m sure it’s a little scary.”

Tonks had watched his face seriously as he babbled, and then her lips quirked into an easy grin. “You’re so sweet, did you know? Everyone coo’s about you.” She reaches out and muses his hopeless hair and gives a laugh at his stricken expression.

She looked back down and noticed Draco was watching their interaction, eyes narrowed.  “Off you pop. It’ll be dinner soon.” 

Harry stood up but Tonks just leaned back on her palms. He looked at her questioningly and she answered before he could voice it. “Nah. I’ll be staying here a bit. It’ll be nice to soak up the sun.” 

Harry nodded and raced down the steps to meet up with his friends. 

~*~

Draco and Neville were where Harry had last seen. But Draco had his arms crossed over himself, clearly angry. Harry slowed down as he got closer, wary. 

“I can't believe you would do that!” Draco hissed, first pushing his finger in Harry’s face, then whirling around to walk to the castle. 

“Do what?” Harry asked, guilty and out-of-breath from trying to keep up. He knew he shouldn’t have told Tonks about Draco knowing about being his cousin. But how did Draco know what they were talking about? That didn’t make sense. 

“Like you don’t know!” Draco shouted back as he entered the castle. He thrust his broom in Neville’s direction, making Neville catch it awkwardly, before he raced up the staircase. A staircase he shouldn’t be going up if he were heading to the Hufflepuff dorm room. Neville and Harry traded glances. 

Harry pushed his hands out, motioning to Draco’s retreating back. Neville shrugged, broomstick held tightly in both hands. Heather meowed. 

Heather meowed? Harry and Neville looked down and found Heather sitting at the foot of the stairs like she’d been there the whole time. She meowed again, and began trotting up with a flick of her tail. The boys followed. 

Draco went up five flights of stairs, one of which moved after the fact which resulted in Harry having to hopscotch the tune to “Tis Money Make the Man”. And then, seeing he was still pursued, switched tactics and went down two flights. Until he suddenly stopped, and looked around. Harry and Neville raced a few paces closer during his distraction. Until Draco hissed, “Look!” 

They did. The corridor didn’t look remotely familiar. The three Hufflepuff’s crowded together. 

“Are we lost?” Neville asked hesitantly. 

Draco scoffed. “No, we’re not lost. All we have to do is go back-” When they turned to the way they came, it was with a sinking realization. The stairs had moved away. There was just an empty balcony in its stead. And Heather, of course. She was busy grooming herself. 

“You don’t think...” Harry began to ask. 

“We’re stuck on the Third-floor corridor.” Draco summed up their plight very succinctly. Neville ‘meeped’. “This is all your fault!” Draco hissed once more. “Why did you follow me in the first place?!”

“Keep it down!” Harry whispered. “The stairs might come back before anyone finds us! And we followed you because… because that’s what friends do!” 

Draco opened his mouth to contest the claim, but was interrupted by Neville yanking on the sleeve of his robe and pointing... At Ms. Norris. Who was stalking up beside where Heather had sat herself down.

Heather had been cleaning herself, but when she noticed the tabby she gently sat that foot down. The cats eyed each other, tails thrashing. Ms. Norris hissed. Heather looked less than impressed. When Ms. Norris began stalking closer, Heather quickly raised both front paws and popped Ms. Norris in the face three times in succession. Pop-pop-pop. 

“We’re going to get expelled!” Draco lamented just as Ms. Norris yowled in displeasure. She raced away, but the boys could already hear Filch’s keys and staff. 

As one, the boys bolted in the opposite direction, down the long corridor. There was only one door, and Draco, as the fastest, hit it first, proving it was locked. The boy’s shared a panicked look. Filch was getting closer. 

Draco dragged his wand out of his robes. “Alohomora!” He hissed at the knob. There was a click, and he began to turn the knob. Heather pushed past the boys and all three spilled inside. Neville and Harry threw their backs to the door while Draco turned his head to press his ear firmly to the wood, to listen. 

Harry opened his eyes and immediately saw the problem in opening an unlocked door. There was a huge three-headed dog baring its fangs at the little group, chained to something underneath it. Harry hazarded a quick look. He was sure Neville would scream warning if it lunged. It was chained to a trapdoor. 

“Okay. I think he’s gone.” Draco whispered and turned around to the same sight that had frozen the other two boys. “Oh…” His movement and voice made the three headed dog growl in warning. 

So of course Heather walked right up to it, giving it a disinterested look as she continued where she left off on her washing before Norris had interrupted her. The dog cocked it head, then with a thump that rattled the floor, settled down to inspect the cat more thoroughly. 

With that distraction, the boys fled. But at least they waited long enough for the cat to saunter back out the door before they slammed it. When they raced back out the corridor, Filch wasn’t to be seen and the balcony had changed back into a staircase. They were able to take it all the way down to the Hufflepuff’s hallway. 

Once securely inside the barrel door, Draco turned to Harry and sneered. “We didn’t get caught but that was all your fault! I would tell a Professor only because it would be obvious that I had been there as well.” And with a sniff, he stalked off. 

“I’m sorry?” Harry called out in his wake. But he wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for. He looked at Neville, who had been holding Draco’s stupid broom the entire time. Neville shrugged. 

“I’ll talk to him. I have no idea why he’s mad.” 

~*~

Neville reported back to Harry the next day with no findings. Draco refused to talk about it. He refused to talk to Harry as well. Harry tried on multiple occasions during the next month to apologize, but Draco had his perfectly crafted Slytherin mask of disinterest to fall upon. So Harry gave up. He figured it would be best just to give Draco his space until he was no longer mad.

He still spoke with Neville regularly, but not long enough to make Draco impatient or short tempered. And Harry became closer friends with Susan, Megan, Sally, and Hannah. When they weren’t talking about boys, they were all right. He had tried to become more friendly with Justin and Ernie multiple times, but all they talked about was gobstones and sports. Which was more boring than the girls talking about boys occasionally. 

Harry also spent more time with the upper-years. Cedric had noticed the divide between the first years and had, at first, tried to remedy it through conversations with both boys. But Harry truly didn’t know what Draco thought he had done. And Draco refused to speak of it. So Cedric had taken him under his wing. 

With Cedric came Archer and Emma, of course. And with Emma came the third years Delilah Foxglove, Leanne Knotts, and Warren Matlard, who she was dating. As well as her fifth-year sister, Allison. Allison was best friends with Penny (the Prefect) and Arvilla Wolpers (the Beater). And of course, Tonks and Violet would drop by to coo and ruffle his hair. Harry didn’t know what to do with all the older girls and their cooing. Apparently, it was because he had a squishy face. Which sounded mean. But it was said nicely. It always made him smile. Which resulted in more cooing.

When Harry had once asked Cedric what the cooing was about, he’d just grinned and shook his head and told him he’d understand when he was older. Whatever that meant. 

With all of his new friends, the time passed quickly. He still missed Neville and Draco. But it was bearable. Until Harry looked at the date and realized an entire month had passed since Draco had talked to him. And nearly a week since Neville had even tried to visit. 

Sure, Harry had made new friends. But he refused to lose his first ones. Not to something he didn’t even understand. 

So Harry got up that day prepared to speak with Draco. It wasn’t until he went downstairs to the Great Hall that he realized it was Halloween. He attempted during breakfast, but the ghosts made an appearance and spooked most everyone out early. Then classes were too busy, especially when the girls started arguing over who was going to pair with him. 

It wasn’t until they were walking into the Great Hall for the feast that he was able to corner both Draco and Neville on a bench. 

“Will you tell me why you’re mad?” Harry cut straight to the point. “I know it’s something to do with Tonks. But we just visited for a little while. She seems cool. You should visit with her.” 

Draco sneered and repeated Harry mockingly. “‘She seems cool.’ Well, then. You did a good job of making friends with her. Or are you trying to become even closer. Like cousins, perhaps?”

Harry frowned. “Is that really what this is about? Draco, I’m not…”

“You already have a cousin! You’ve made it clear you can make a lot of friends! Stop trying to take mine!” Draco raised his voice. Most of the Hufflepuff’s and some of the Ravenclaws stopped talking, noticing the argument for the first time. 

Harry clenched his fists. He could feel his cheeks growing hot. “I thought you were my friend too!” He shouted back, even louder. “I thought I could finally make friends here! I thought I could finally fit in without being a…. A freak! I thought I could finally play games other than Harry Hunting! I hate my cousin! I hate him! He broke my arm when we were seven and Aunt Petunia wouldn’t even take me to the hospital! Uncle Vernon actually laughed! So I’m sorry I’m trying to be so nice! I’m sorry I like making friends! I’m sorry I actually like school for once in my life because the other kids think I’m a little cool! And I’m sorry I ever tried to be friends with a selfish ponce like you!” Harry screamed. 

It wasn’t until he took a break for breath that he realized how quiet it had become. Everyone was staring at him. Everyone. Even the professors. Neville looked like he had been struck. Draco’s complexion shifted from white to red to white again. Harry did the only thing he could think of doing. He bolted. 

He was so busy wiping tears out of his eyes he didn’t even notice passing a running and panting Professor Quirrell as he did so. 

~*~

Neville and Draco exchanged a hurried glance. Draco knew immediately that they would go and follow Harry, wherever he ended up. But before they could make more than a few steps, Professor Quirell came slamming into the door Harry had just let fall behind him. 

The professor was panting and full of deranged terror. “Troll! Troll-- in the dungeon-- thought you should know.” He then unhelpfully passed out. 

There was immediate panic. Draco wouldn’t lie and say that he didn’t feel a moment of it. But Harry was more important. He reached out and grabbed Neville’s arm and they started making their way to the door during the chaos. 

Professor Dumbledore brought the Great Hall to silence with the judicious use of some firecrackers. “Prefects! Lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!” 

Draco and Neville both were caught by Penny and herded back to the first years. Everyone was so hurried and panicked that no one remembered Harry. He would be left out in the halls with a troll! And not even know it! 

As soon as he saw an opening, Draco grabbed Neville’s arm and ducked down behind a group of Gryfindors, out of sight of the Hufflepuff’s. 

Neville opened his mouth, about to cry offense, but Draco raised a quiet finger and hissed, “We need to find Harry! No one remembered he ran off! And it’s my fault. So we’re going to find him.” 

Neville snapped his mouth shut with a click. He grimaced in fear, but nodded. “Yeah. Yeah. Let’s do this. Would he have gone back to the dorms?” 

Draco thought about it as they began moving again. “No. He wouldn’t want anyone finding him. An empty classroom?” 

It soon became quieter and they stopped to take a breather and hide behind some armour and shared a look. If he was in an empty classroom, they didn’t have much luck at all in finding him. Not before troll found him. Or them. 

There was a boom as someone… or something… tossed open a door further down the hall that they had ducked into. Draco looked around the armour. It wasn’t the troll. It was Professor Snape. He looked murderous and had his wand drawn. But he wasn’t headed to the dungeons. He was headed to the third floor. 

Before Draco could think that part of information through, he was already calling out. “Uncle Severus!” 

Snape whirled around, wand raised high. And then he dropped it to a more reasonable height even as he advanced on the two First Years. 

“What are you buffoon’s doing? You should be in your dormitory!” He snarled. 

“It’s Harry! He ran out before Professor Quirrel ran in! He doesn’t know about the troll and we can’t find him!” Draco and Neville blurted out pieces of the story simultaneously.

The Professor snarled, this time to himself, before he muttered a spell under his breath, his wand balanced on the flat of his hand. Draco recognized the spell. It was a Finder’s spell. 

The wand spun for a quick moment before it led further down the hall. “Stay with me. And if I tell you to run, you run!” Snape hissed before he headed in the direction his wand pointed at a quick pace that the boys struggled to keep up with. 

Draco was the one to smell it first. “What is that stench?” 

“Troll. Silence!” The professor hissed, raising his wand while also slowing his pace. The boys crowded each other behind him, eyes darting trying to find the source of the smell. It was at the end of the hall, lumbering towards an open door. 

Snape’s wand hand clenched. Draco didn’t know what he could do, but he took out his wand as well. The troll had just fit it’s entire body into the abandoned classroom when the three heard Harry yell. 

Snape leapt into action, covering the meters at a speed that the boys couldn’t reach. He shouted behind himself “Run!” and was inside the classroom and didn’t stay to see if they did as they were told. He was already in the classroom before the boys reached the threshold. He was throwing spells and there was more screaming and slamming. The boys stayed out of the way, clutching at each other, hoping Harry was alright. That the professor could take out the troll by himself. 

With one last shouted spell, something that was cast so quickly Draco couldn’t hear it, there was a heavy thud. And then everything went silent. For a moment. 

“Idiot fool! What were you thinking, running about when a troll was in the castle!” Snape snarled. 

Draco and Neville could hear Harry as he burst into tears. They looked at each other, then both rounded the door jam corner and into the room. Harry was in the corner at the back side, without his glasses and crowded there by the Professor. The troll was unconscious or dead near the doorway. Draco and Neville skirted it before throwing themselves at Harry for a hug. 

“I’m so sorry! You were right. I was being a ponce. I am so glad you’re alive!” Draco spoke, muffled into Harry’s shoulder. 

Harry gave a hiccuping laugh through his tears. He had several small cuts from debris on his cheeks and nose. The sheen from the small amounts of blood and large amounts of tears made his eyes even greener, especially without his glasses. Neville found those, under an overturned desk when he let go of Harry long enough to look. The frames were broken into several pieces and the lenses were completely broken out. Harry squinted poorly at them. 

Severus pinched his nose with a strong sigh. “Draco! I told you to run!” 

Draco at least looked a little sheepish as he turned to the professor. “We couldn’t go without Harry. We just wanted to make sure he was alright.” 

Neville bit his lip. “It was our fault professor. We were the ones that started the argument that had Harry running off.” 

Draco rounded on Neville. “It wasn’t your fault! I was the berk! And I was the one that didn’t run first.” He turned back to the professor. “So if you’re punishing anyone, you should be punishing me!” 

Severus was about to respond how they were all going to receive detentions when Professor McGonnagall, Professor Sprout, and Professor Quirrell burst into the room. 

At the sight of the troll, Professor Quirrell looked like he was going to faint for the second time that night. Professor Sprout immediately advanced to check on her three students. 

“What is the meaning of this, Severus?” Professor McGonagall asked. 

With one last glare at the students, Severus turned to look at McGonagall and Quirrell. “Shortly before we were made aware of the troll…” he drawled. “My godson, Draco here, and Mr. Potter got into a dispute. It could be heard from the High Table.”

“Oh my poor dear,” Professor Sprout tutted and cradled Harry in her arms. She was fussing over his cuts as much as his confrontation with his friends. 

“Mr. Potter ran for this empty classroom to… compose… himself.” The hesitance sounded close to a sneer. But Draco thought he could detect some sympathy. Especially since he didn’t try to blame Harry for the entire incident. “Draco and Neville found me and explained the situation. And I found Mr. Potter cornered by the troll.” Severus advanced on Quirrell. “The only unexplained thing… is how the troll was released into the castle in the first place.” 

Draco realized that his Godfather wasn’t actually concerned about that part. He blamed Quirrell, for some reason. 

“A series of unfortunate events indeed, Severus. But Thank Heavens you were here to keep the children safe.” McGonagall spoke. “Professor Sprout, please take your charges to the infirmary to be checked over for inquiries and shock. Professor Quirrell, you can assist me in getting this troll out of my classroom!” 

All three boys snickered. It was perhaps inappropriate, but the adults let the giggles slide. They’d been through a shock and all. 

Professor Snape turned himself sharply towards the door, intending to leave. 

“Professor!” Harry called after him. Severus stopped to look behind himself, a sneer in place that Harry couldn’t see due to his broken glasses. “You saved my life. Thank you!” 

Draco witnessed his Godfather’s sneer drop in surprise. The irritable man nodded once sharply in an accepting nod. And then he glided out of the wrecked room.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed it! The boys will reunite more fully next chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> I love hearing from everyone! But please treat me kindly! :)


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